We'll Meet Again
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: Vince is a London evacuee and ends up in Yorkshire with Mrs Moon and her estranged son. D/C: Not mine! Set in WW2 times. xx
1. Chapter 1

The sky was grey, the school yard was grey, in fact everything was grey but there was still a definite buzz about the place. The excited chatter of children playing and skipping and laughing. The anticipation of the 'holiday'; the mass trip abroad… well, Yorkshire. Mothers and grandparents were tidying their children's hair for the last time, warning them to be good and kissing them repeatedly until they were being swatted away and left in favour of talking with friends about the unknown territory of the big, wide world 'outside London'. The children were far too busy to notice the rivers of unshed tears storing up behind their mothers' eyes.

Vince Noir, was one such child, his mum was still pulling at his shirt and buttoning the last few buttons right up to the collar but he was struggling to get away as he saw his best friend Leroy across the yard. It seemed like everyone he knew was here, all to wave them off on their new holiday and he was so excited he could barely keep still long enough for his mother to talk to him.

"Now, you listen to me." His mother was saying, staring intently at her son, "you be good for the people you stay with, understand? You always say please and thank you and don't you cause any trouble. Okay? Vincent. Listen to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Vince sulked, digging the toe of his shoe into the gravel.

"Don't mess your shoes about like that. Now, you've got a biscuit and a sandwich in your lunchbox and Nana made you that scarf for a reason, you keep that around your neck, y'here."

"Yes mum." he droned.

"Okay." she said, pulling him into a suffocating hug.

"Argh. Muu-uuum." he whinged. "People are looking."

"hmm. Oh. Sorry." she said, dabbing a handkerchief to her streaming eyes.

"Mum?" Vince asked softly. "Are you crying?"

"No." The woman said, shaking her head determinedly as another tear escaped down her face. "Of course I'm not crying." she chuckled lightly. "You have a great time on holiday, okay."

"Okay mum." Vince promised.

"And be good."

"I will. Can I go and see Leroy now?"

"Yes." his mum gasped and with that he pushed his was through the throng of children to where Leroy and another boy were playing stick and hoop.

His mother waved as he ran away but he didn't look back. She sobbed a little into her handkerchief. She hated this war. Her husband was somewhere on the front line and her son was about to be taken from her as well. She felt her own mothers hand, soft on her arm.

"He'll be safer this way."

"I know," his mother sobbed, "I know."

--

Vince sat by Leroy on the bus and then on the train and they played a game called spot the animal. Vince whooped in delight when he was first to see a cow.

"Look!" He cried, "an actual cow!"

"And there's a sheep." Leroy chipped in as they passed field after green field. Vince couldn't help think how weird it was seeing all this shrubbery flashing past the window. He'd never seen so much grass before. Think of the football they could play.

"D'you think we'll go on holiday to the same place Leroy?" Vince asked.

"We're not going on holiday you berk."

"Wh-what?"

"Our parents have sent us away because it's too dangerous for us to stay in London."

"Too dangerous in London?"

"Yeah, with all the bombs."

"So are our parents getting to leave too?"

"Don't be daft." Leroy scorned. "It's just the kids because we're the future, init?"

Vince's eyes grew wide. "But what about my mum and Nana."

"What about them?" Leroy shrugged. "They're not the future. We are. Look around you. You didn't really think that every child in south London was going on holiday together, did you? It's a war Vince. It's all about training us up and getting us ready for war."

"But I don't wanna go to war." Vince mumbled.

"Tough." Leroy said, all men go to war. "It's something to do with a game of draughts. If you win you go to war, lose you stay at home. My dad lost. That's why he's still at home."

"You couldn't have it more wrong." scorned the oldest boy on the trip. "It's a draft system, not a game of draughts and your dad's still at home because he's a scummy draft dodger. My mum said he feigned injury just so he couldn't go. You're dad's the lowest of the low."

"You take that back." cried Leroy, leaping up on his chair and stretching to his full height.

"Make me." the boy grinned. Leroy did not need asking twice. He leapt at him and they both crashed to the floor in a muddle of flailing limbs. The boy caught Leroy on this chin with a well landed punch and Leroy kicked and scratched with all his might until a woman came along and dragged them apart.

"Look at you two." she shrilled, "You're acting like a couple of animals. Steven. You sit down that end of the carriage. Leroy the other end. I don't want to hear another word from either of you. Got it?"

The two boys nodded and slumped solemnly to their respective ends of the carriage.

Vince let out a long sigh. This was going to be a long trip and now all he could do was worry about his mum and his Nana.

--

"Howard." Mrs Moon called up the stairs. "Come on sweetheart. We have to go and pick up one of the evacuees."

"But why?" Howard moaned. They'd had this argument about a hundred times today.

"Because I promised reverend Carson that'd we'd take a child."

"But I don't want to share my room." Howard sighed, pulling on his shoes and chasing his mother awkwardly down the pebbly cottage path. "It's not fair. Why can't they just stay in their own homes."

"Because it's very dangerous in London." Mrs Moon explained carefully, eyeing her gangly teenage son warily as he came up with grumble and gripe after another.

"Look." she snapped as they got close to the village hall. "I don't care what you think Howard. It's a war and in a war it's up to everyone to pull together. Now, whoever we have stay with us for a while you will make him of her feel very welcome. Do you understand?"

Howard nodded, dipping his head a little. He was almost a man, well, in a few years time, he hated it when his mother told him off.

"Good." she seemed satisfied. "Now, come on."

Howard followed his mother silently into the village hall and gasped out loud when he saw the melee inside. There were children _everywhere_. Some shouting and playing, other's sat nervously on the scarcely available seats. Most were scattered on the floor. Each had a small suitcase, a gas mask and a label around their neck.

He leant over and read one;

_Name: Abigail Greenwood  
__Age: 6  
__Address: 32 Fern Crossing, __London  
__Medical: Asthma._

He looked at the girl. She was a grubby little thing, with dirty blonde plats tied with pink ribbon.

"Hi." she whispered, a small smile showing a gap where her front tooth should have been.

"Hi." he whispered back. He couldn't comprehend what that girl must be going through, six years old, ripped away from his mother with no idea what was happening. He wanted to tell her it would be okay but he didn't know. He couldn't lie to her. He walked away and found his mum quickly.

"A boy if possible Reverend." she was saying. "He's going to have to stay in Howard's room so maybe one of about Howard's age."

"I don't think we evacuate children as old as Howard."

"I'm a young man now." Howard said proudly.

"Act like it then." his mother snapped. She was stressed and Howard knew he wasn't helping.

"I tell you what," the reverend said, "I'll try and round up a few of the older boys and you can choose from them."

"That sounds great. Thank you." Mrs Moon smiled exasperatedly.

"There's a little girl over there." Howard hissed "I think we should take…" but as he looked over he saw an elderly couple called Mr and Mrs Smithe take her with them. "Never mind." he sighed turning around to see his mum inspecting a group of boys that looked like they'd been raised on the streets. They were all filthy, blackened faces and messy hair. No wonder their parents were trying to get rid of them, he thought bitterly. He glanced at the closest boys label;

_Name: Timothy Francis  
__Age: 13  
__Address: 21 Fortern St, __London.  
__Medical: None._

It felt weird reading about these children. It was like they were lost property that the villagers were going to horde at home. As his mother carefully set about searching for the right boy, Howard decided to wander around the hall. It was buzzing with nervous and exciting chatter. All the kids looked terrified and a little desperate. He read label after label; Holly aged 10, Joshua aged 8, Vincent aged 14, Sarah aged 11, Hannah aged 13. Child after child, each one just as terrified as the last then he settled on a tiny boy with curly brown hair;

_Name: Thomas John  
__Age: 9  
__Address: Cooks Rd, __London  
__Medical: None_

Howard thought he could probably put up with this kid. He looked cleaner than the others, he was small so he wouldn't take up much space and Howard was sure he was naïve enough that Howard could make him a personal slave in a few weeks.

He smiled down at Thomas and said;

"Come with me."

The little boy nodded obediently and followed Howard over to where Mrs Moon was still studying her options. Howard presented little Thomas to his mother.

"No, sorry darling. He's far too young."

"He's not he's perfect."

"He's not sweetheart. I want one of the older boys, you'd have nothing in common with this boy."

"I would." Howard insisted but he could feel he was losing the battle.

"Reverend." Mrs Moon said, "You don't have any other boys of this age, do you?"

"I really don't know. Have a look. I'm sure you'll find some."

"There's one down there." Howard pointed in the direction from which he'd just come. He's sat in amongst some of the really little kids. He looks about twelve but I'm sure his label said fourteen.

Mrs Moon wandered quickly in the direction Howard had pointed. Howard apologized to Thomas and the boy just shrugged and ran back to his seat. Just as the little boy settled on the floor again, Mrs Moon was dragging a dark haired boy to his feet.

"And you're not ill?" she was asking.

The boy shook his scruffy head, hair flying everywhere. He had too much hair, Howard noted, and not enough fat. He had pale skin but he was clean and there wasn't a blemish of dirt on him. He was dressed in brown shorts and a white shirt, just like all the other boys but there was something different about his outfit and it wasn't just the heavy, woollen scarf around his neck. He looked somehow neater than everyone else. His shoes were polished to mirror like shine and his shirt wasn't buttoned quite to the top, showing just the tiniest glimpse of pale white chest. Howard frowned. He looked like the sort of boy who'd star in West End Musicals, the snobby, bratty kind of kid.

"And you haven't got fleas?" Mrs Moon continued to berate him.

The boy shook his head again. "I'm clean as a whistle." he smiled.

"Right." she seemed satisfied, "You're coming home with me."

"Oh. Thanks you ma'am." he grinned, showing two rows of slightly crooked teeth.

"Right." Mrs Moon smiled, "This is my son Howard."

"Hello." the boy smiled.

"Hello." Howard repeated, holding out his hand to the smaller boy. He took it and they shook.

"My names Vince." said the small boy. "Vince Noir."

"We know darling." Mrs Moon said as she indicated to the Reverend that she'd chosen. "It's written on your label."

"Oh yeah." he chuckled, fingering the brown card. "Erm, is it okay if I write a letter when we get to your house. I want to let my mum and Nana know that I'm okay."

"That's fine. Then Howard will help you unpack. You're going to be staying in his room."

Vince nodded cheerfully. This was exciting, new place, new house, new friends and fields. He still couldn't get used to the amount of green that surrounded them.

--

"This is my room." Howard said huffily. "Make yourself comfortable I guess. There's a desk over there, some paper and pens if you want to write your letter. And I've cleared out the bottom draw for your stuff."

"Oh Thanks." he smiled.

"No problem. Mum's cooking tea now so… when you're ready just pop down."

"Thanks. Erm, Howard?" Vince stammered nervously."Yeah."

"Where's the toilet?"

Howard pointed him in the right direction and Vince thanked him again. Howard went downstairs. He didn't really like sharing this house with a stranger. The boy was strange. He looked constantly like he was fighting down a choking feeling.

Vince looked into the mirror and washed his face carefully with a flannel. He didn't want to cry. He would _not _cry. He'd lost Leroy at a station over an hour ago. He'd watched him get taken from the train and handed over to a woman with curly grey hair. He'd waved as the train pulled off and looked around the half empty carriage. He hadn't known anyone else. He'd been completely alone since then. The other boys had spoken about the war. They were all desperate to serve their country to be heroes like their dads. Vince wasn't. He saw how upset his mum was after his dad had gone to war. He saw how poor they were, how weak his old Nana had become. He'd wanted to stay at home for a while. He'd begged not to leave. His dad, before he'd gone to the front line, had made him promise to be the man of the house. How could he do that when he was miles away from his house? But his mum had told him he didn't have a choice. She told him he had to go and she told him he'd enjoy himself. She'd said it would be like a lovely holiday.

Vince wiped the tear tracks from his cheek. He didn't want the family that had taken him in to see him crying. They seemed nice enough. Mrs Moon was chatty and pleasant. She was plump and wore a flowery pink dress, which had been patched up in several places. She smelt faintly of lavender and Vince thought she looked motherly but she wasn't his mother. His mother was thin, like him, and bony. She always wore brown and her hair scraped back into a pony tale. She was strict because she'd brought Vince up on her own a lot. Ever when Vince's dad was home from war he was hardly actually at home. He spent the majority of the weekdays working and the weekends drinking but that had never stopped Vince idolising his father. He wondered what Howard's father was like.

He left the bathroom and rushed to Howard's room. It was empty. He unpacked his suitcase and put the clothes in the bottom draw. He only had a couple of trousers and a few shirts and a note book to draw in. He pushed them all into the draw and went to the desk. He picked up a pen and chewed it thoughtfully.

_Mum,_

_I'm fine. I've seen lots of fields and real live cowz. It waz so strange. The trane journey was long and bumpy. I felt a bit sick by the time we got off. It's really cold hear. Tell Nana I haven't tooken the scarf off and my nek is warm and cozy._

_I'm staying with Mrs Moon. She's nice. She's got a sun caled Howard. He's older than me but he seems nice two. I think we'll be frends._

_I'll right soon._

_Love you and Nana,  
__Vince_

Just as he finished his letter a tear dropped fell on to the bottom of the paper. No, he whispered desperately trying to dry to droplet. He didn't want his mum to think he'd been crying. He wanted to be strong for her. He dabbed at it frantically with a tissue. Then, he heard a cough behind him.

"You okay?" Howard's voice asked.

Vince nodded but he didn't turn around.

"Finished?"

The small boy nodded again.

"Okay. Tea's ready."

"Thanks."

Howard nodded, though he wasn't sure why and turned to leave as he began to walk away he heard a stifled sob. He thought about ignoring it but he couldn't.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, turning back towards the shaking boy. The mop of black hair nodded again but the older boy wasn't convinced.

"Do you want to… erm, talk about it or something?" he asked tentatively.

"No." Vince choked.

Howard frowned. "Erm, okay." As he got down the corridor he heard Vince walking behind him. He looked back and forced a smile. The Londoner smiled back weakly.

They sat down at the table in silence. There were three small meals on the table.

"There you are Vincent. Eat up." smiled Mrs Moon.

"Thank you." he said, taking his knife fork and cutting the potatoes carefully. He didn't feel hungry but he popped the food in his mouth and chewed.

"So. Was it a good trip up?"

"Yes Ma'am. I saw my first cow."

Howard's eyes flicked to the strange boy but he stayed silent. He didn't know what to say in this situation. It was all very uncomfortable and awkward.

"You've never seen a cow before sweetie."

Vince shook his head and took another bite of potato.

"Oh." Mrs moon smiled kindly, "Maybe tomorrow Howard could take you down to the farm. Do you like animals Vincent?"

"Yes."

"There you are Howard. You'll take Vincent to the farm tomorrow, wont you?"

Howard looked from Vince to his mother and sighed. "I guess." he said.

'Good boy' she mouthed at her son and then to the evacuee she continued, "Did you finish your letter to your mother?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Howard can take you to the post office after tea then." Vince looked up at the other boy who rolled his eyes and looked fixatedly on his own food.

"Howard!" his mother said sternly.

"What?" he asked.

"You'll take Vince down to the post office, won't you?"

"Yes." he sighed.

Vince's gut clenched a little. Howard didn't really seem to like him much. It was strange. He'd been nice earlier when they were alone. That was something Vince had to get used to over the next few months.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey!!**

**I can't really apologise enough for neglecting this story for so long!! I'm sure most people can't even remember who i am! =[ SORRY!! I promise to finish it and I hope it wont take me too long. I'm so busy with _real life _at the moment ... always getting in the way of what's really important... i.e. ficcing!**

**Anyways, if any of you are wondering about 'Tears' (the Sequel to 'When Two People Cuddle') it WILL be finished! I'm struggling with it at the moment but the wonderful BrieStarWarsQueen has said that she'll help vet my ideas and chapters so it will be updated soon!**

**I.B/Sisi...xx**

* * *

They finished tea and Vince rushed upstairs to get his letter and his scarf. Howard almost laughed when he saw him. The scarf was so huge it made Vince look like he'd shrunk.

"Have you got an envelope?" Howard asked as they walked along the dirty, mud track-like road. Vince's eyes widened. He shook his head, scruffy black hair flying about his face.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay." Howard said, "Here."

He pulled some coins from his pocket and pressed them into Vince's palm.

"Thanks." Vince mumbled. His hand was tiny in comparison to Howard's and a couple of coins clattered noisily to the shoddy tarmac.

"Sorry," he said again, thrusting his letter at Howard to hold and dropping to his knees to scrabble back the money. Howard couldn't help himself as he took a sneaky look at the misspelt, scrawls across the page. He frowned. Vince wasn't _that _young. Did they not teach them adequate in English in London?

When he looked up, Vince was staring straight at him with an expression like a moody toddler.

"It's not very good, is it?" he blushed, taking the paper back sheepishly, "I'm not too smart. I can't spell and my writing looks like a dying spiders been dipped in ink and dropped on a page."

"It's fine." Howard said, because although what Vince was saying was ture, he didn't like to see the boy putting himself down.

"Next time. I'm just gonna draw my mum a picture. I can draw really well. I'll draw you if you like. I think I can draw people. Never really done it before. I usually draw things I see in my head like dragons with four heads and fighter planes decorated with flowers that shoot water balloons. Reckon if this war was just a big water fight. Everything would be much better."

Howard frowned a little. This Vince boy was odd. He was quiet and shy most of the time but once you got him talking he was impossible to shut up, like a radio with no 'off switch' and the station was permanently on 'Nonsense FM'. Howard, to his utmost surprise, found himself responding in a similar nonsensical way as he allowed Vince to take him to a far off, made-up happy place.

"Obviously." Howard smiled. "Except it would be really cold in the winter. People would be soaking wet and freezing cold."

"But they'd be alive." Vince whispered quietly. Then he shook himself slightly. "I'll go and get the envelope."

Howard watched the boy, with the too neatly fitted clothes and the giant scarf, skip into the post office. It was strange. There was so much he didn't know about the boy. He wasn't even sure which part of London he was from and yet, he kind of liked him and kind of felt like he knew him well. He liked this feeling, even if it was a little unsettling.

Howard leant against the wall of the post office and watched the busy village square. There were still couples and families milling around with London latest cast-offs. He watched as Peter the Bread's wife walked down the street with four children. There was only a few left now, still sat in the hall waiting patiently for someone to choose them. These were the ones with the most complicated medical problems or who weren't quite as cute as the others. Howard sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was lucky really, he supposed, living here with his mum in a village that was relatively safe from the Hun.

"Moon!" cried a voice. Howard looked to the right to see Billy walking towards him. "What you doing hanging around by the town hall? You laughing at all the do-gooders who're getting these evacuees? I hate Londoners. Scummy town folk, reckon they shouldn't bother evacuating them."

Just at that moment, Vince appeared out the post office, with an envelope and some change. He tried to carry on like everything was fine but Howard could tell he'd heard.

"Look at this lad." Billy laughed as Vince pushed himself on to his tiptoes to cram the letter into the post-box. "Look at that massive scarf. It's way too big for you. That's a waste of wool. Everyone else in Britain is cutting back and you're wasting it all on that thing."

"My Nana made it for me," Vince said calmly and Howard somehow knew he was used to this kind of confrontation. Howard, however, was not, so when Vince looked at him for support the older boy ducked behind Billy his head dipped, studying the ground.

"Ooo. My Nana made it for me." Billy mocked, in a terrible London accent. "Get a load of this kid Howard."

"I'm not a kid." Vince said, sternly "I'm the man of my house now!"

"Oh hell," laughed Billy cruelly. "How old are you? Ten, eleven?"

"I'm fourteen." Vince said.

"No way, bloody hell. Did you forget to grow?"

Vince seemed to consider the bully ahead of him for a moment or two. His head tilted to the side, his eyes widened and his face screwed up. He was clearly trying to figure something out. Howard looked up to see this expression and smiled. He couldn't help himself. The boy was just so strange, so readable like a puppy; so genuine. So different to everyone else he knew.

"You're not very nice," Vince said eventually and Howard could stop himself from laughing out loud. Billy ignored the laughter but Vince didn't. He looked straight at Howard and beamed at him.

"I'm not very nice." Billy chuckled. "Well… did you hear that Howard? I'm not very _nice_." Billy spat the last word out like venom and Howard's gut clenched with nerves as he gave a non-committal hum and looked away from the small boy.

Howard felt uncomfortable now. He wanted to do something but he didn't know what, so he switched his ears off and allowed the conversation to melt into incoherent mumbling.

He heard Vince say something. He heard Billy say something sharp and cutting back and suddenly, there was the pounding of footsteps on the pavement. Howard looked up to see Vince legging it down the pavement, his red woollen scarf flowing behind him.

"What did you say to him?" Howard asked immediately."Just a couple of home truths." Billy smirked. "Seems his daddy's a sore point."

"You git. Just coz your dad's a doctor and avoids the draft. The rest of us aren't always that lucky. I better go and get him. He hasn't got a clue where he's going."

"Leave him." said Billy. "Harry's got himself some ale. We're gonna go to his house and drink it, you coming."Howard looked in the direction Vince had disappeared and then back to his friend.

"Come on Howard. You don't wanna go with him. He's a freak. Come get drunk like a real man."

He forced a smile at Billy as the older boy's hand fell heavily and almost threateningly on his shoulder, pulling him in the opposite direction to Vince. Howard followed blindly. Well, what did he care about a stupid Londoner anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

Howard had taken three sips of beer and then they'd just sat around talking. Harry was swearing like a sailor, banging on and on about what he was going to do when he saw Hitler. He was eighteen in a few months and couldn't wait to make his place in history.

"You're stupid," Howard breathed. "You'll never get to him. You'll just shoot a few innocents and that's it."

"None of the Germans are innocent. Nazi scum!" Harry spat, slamming his own full pitcher of beer onto a wooden table. Harry had issues, deep-seated issues with the German's. His grandfather had been killed in the first world war and his dad had returned home recently with a deep shrapnel wound to the arm that had led it to be amputated.

Harry had been filled with hate since Howard had known him. He knew all the war horror stories, which fascinated Billy and freaked out Howard but Howard was still somehow drawn to both Billy and Harry. They were so strong, so manly. All the girls of the village wanted men like them and Howard was allowed to tag along. He felt privileged to be part of their gang, to be accepted enough to be allowed in Harry's cellar, supping some of the black-market booze. But it wasn't long before the guilt kicked in as everything seemed to make him think of Vince and Howard left much earlier than perhaps he would've normally.

He went home first, creeping around trying to avoid his mother. He didn't want to let his mum know he'd abandoned their guest. He searched the rooms quickly. Vince was nowhere to be seen. He was just creeping out of the front door, when he heard his mother call his name.

"What are you doing back? Where's Vince?"

"He's in the park." Howard lied quickly. "I just came to get the football."

"Right. Okay. Be back soon though before it gets dark please, Howard."

"Of course."

--

It was already dark by the time Howard found Vince. He was huddled in a ball on the train station platform, with his coat pulled tight around him and his nose covered up by his scarf, so just his red, tearful eyes peeped out above the mass of red wool.

"Hi." said Howard, slumping carefully next to the smaller boy. "You okay?"

Vince nodded silently. It wasn't convincing but Howard didn't know what to say so he just patted him on the knee and sighed,

"Come on. Let's go home."

"Good football?" Mrs Moon asked as they walked through the door. Vince frowned in confusion, clutching at his scarf like a comfort blanket but Howard just said,

"Yeah, it was great."

--

It was strange for the rest of the evening. They didn't talk much. Vince sat in a pair of Howard's old pyjamas, which drowned him in thick, plaid material, fiddling with the ends of his scarf, which was still wrapped around him. Howard virtually ignored the smaller boy until the night.

Mrs Moon had set up the bedroom ready for them. They had to share the bed, with a pillow divide down the middle and there was hardly enough room for them both but this was the war. It forced people to pull together in situations they would never usually be happy with. Mrs Moon turned the lights off, whispering goodnight to them both as she shut the door.

The darkness and silence attacked from every angle. It was a few minutes before Howard spoke. It was strange, Vince thought, how different Howard was when they were alone.

"I'm sorry about what Billy said," he whispered into the blackness.

"It's okay," Vince replied, in the same hushed tone. "My friend Leroy. His dad is home from the war too. Leroy said he lost a game of draughts but apparently that's not true."

Howard smiled a little and although he couldn't see it, Vince almost felt it warm the air. He somehow knew it wasn't condescending, just a genuine smile.

"I don't see my dad much," Vince continued, quietly. "He's always away with work and then he was taken to the war and it was just me and my mum and Nana. He told me he wanted me to protect them but how can I do that if I'm miles and miles away."

"They'll be fine," Howard said and he hoped he was telling the truth.

"I just wish my dad was here," Vince sighed, shuffling a little under the duvet.

"I know how you feel." Howard whispered staring up into the blackness. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly talking about all this but he felt he could trust this boy. "My dad was in the war too. We had a letter a few months after he'd gone. They said he'd been killed."

"Oh," Then a pause, and: "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was nearly two years ago. My dad was a solider for years and years, it was almost expected I guess."

Vince propped himself up on an elbow and peered through the darkness into the space where he knew Howard was led.

"Would you like some chocolate?" he asked.

"What?"

"Chocolate. I've got some." the smaller boy was grinning insanely, Howard could hear it in his voice. "It's in my drawer. Nana gave it to me before I left."

"But it's so hard to get hold of." Howard said, also pushing himself onto his elbow.

"I know." grinned Vince. "I'll share it with you though."

Vince slid carefully out of the bed and shuffled cautiously to the chest of draws. The next thing Howard knew, Vince had flipped on a lamp and thrown a shirt over it so the light was low.

"Here." he smiled, pressing some slightly melted chocolate into the older boy's hand.

"Thanks." Howard said, nibbling the small chunk of chocolate in his hands. He didn't realise he'd missed it so much.

"S'ok," grinned Vince, "Friends share things, don't they?"

"Yeah." Howard smiled back. He felt strangely happy that this boy had so immediately called him a friend.

They talked for hours, whispered secrets about the differences of their two lives,

"So you'd never seen a cow? Really?"

"No."

"I'll take you to the farm tomorrow, it's full of them. They'll be really close too."

"Oh fab." Vince murmured. Howard could tell he was tired now so he whispered, 'Goodnight' and closed his own eyes.

--

Vince woke early. He wasn't used to getting good amounts of sleep. He was used to sleeping huddled in a ball next to his mother, closing his eyes and wondering if he'd ever wake up. He'd been asleep far longer than he'd ever expected to be and the sun streamed through the gap in the curtains. Vince slid out of bed and crept quietly to his draw, which held his worldly possessions. A couple of shirts a pair of trousers and some writing stuff. He pulled out his notebook and pencil and crept from the house.

Howard woke late. It was the weekend and he was a teenager, it was virtually expected. He rose slowly from the bed and padded down the stairs to find his mum tipping limited amount of cereal into three bowls. Howard, for a split second, almost let himself entertain the idea that his dad had come home and then he peered out of the window and saw Vince. He was sat on a fallen log, hunched over something with his ridiculous scarf wrapped around him like a woolly python.

Oh. He'd forgotten about him.

He walked outside and shuddered a little as the cold air suffocated him.

"Morning," Vince said, without turning around. "This place is amazing. Look at that tree, anything could live in that. I think there's a tiny person named Fred living there. I bet he watches over you, a bit like a guardian angel. My Nana says that everyone's got a guardian angel. Reckon mine is my grandpa bet he's watching me right now." Vince looked up into the sky and sighed. It was grey, as always and the clouds were black and threatening rain. "He'll watch you too," he continued, finally twisting his thin body to address Howard, "coz you're my friend."

"Thanks." Howard whispered, though he wasn't really sure how he felt about being watched by some evacuees grandfather. "What are you doing?" he asked, partly to change the subject and partly because he was curious as to what Vince was hunching over.

"Drawing." The smaller boy explained, holding up a beautiful picture of the tree. It was perfect well, a sort of 'off' perfect. The size the shape, the branches, the leaves were as though he'd taken a picture but he'd painted it purple and blue and all sorts of psychedelic colours and he'd added a few things, a small, man-like, monkey creature hanging from one of the branches, a little fairy fluttering around the base of the tree and a long slide for the numerous orange squirrels to play on.

"It's really good." Howard said honestly.

"Here," Vince said, carefully ripping the page from his book and passing it over, "you have it."

"Oh I couldn't pos-."

"You have to," Vince insisted, pressing the page into his chest, "it's a present. You have to take it graciously. It's polite."

"Oh… well, I… erm. Thanks."

Vince beamed up and skipped off inside.

--

The gate was wet and slippery and a little unstable at best but Vince didn't care. He stood as high as he dared and reached over as far as he could, until his gloved hand was mere inches from the cows black and white body.

"Almost," he hissed to himself as he strained his fingers a little more. Just then, he lost his footing and his leg slipped. Howard caught his arm and held him steady.

"Watch yourself." he said, as Vince used the older boy to lower himself to the floor.

"Sorry. I just… I was so close to touching a real cow. Look at it. It's amazing."

"They're not so amazing when they're chasing you across a field at a million miles an hour."Vince laughed a little. "Has it chased you across a field Howard?"

"No," the older boy blushed.

"Coz you'd have fought it off, right? With superior internet."

"Intellect," Howard corrected, "and that's exactly what I would have done."

"Thought so." Vince said, propping himself against the fence and looking out across the vast landscape of green. "It's peaceful here," he murmured.

"Mmm." Howard agreed as a cow let out a long, loud moo. He'd never thought of this village as particularly peaceful. There was always so much going on, so much to be done and everyone was so wrapped up in each others lives as well as their own but, he supposed, compared to London, it was probably silent.

"It's cold too. Windy." Vince clarified and, as though on cue, a bitter wind blew across the open field.

"You can borrow my coat if you want."

"You're okay," Vince smiled and then, with no hint of a pause, "cows are smaller than I thought they'd be."

"What were you expecting? Size of a house."

"At least." Vince chuckled, showing off his slightly crooked teeth.

"You're mad," laughed Howard, "must be all that London pollution, messing with your brain."

"Probably."

"Come on. We can go to the brig, play Pooh sticks."

"Brig? Pooh sticks? Sometimes I think you're speaking a foreign language."

Howard smiled a little, "literature Vince. Winnie the Pooh? A.A Milne?"

The little boys face screwed up a little and he shook his head.

"I've got the books at home, I'll let you read them if you like."

"Thanks," Vince whispered, before quickly changing the subject, "so what's a brig?"

"A brig. With water under it?"

Vince shrugged and Howard groaned in mock exasperation, "come on little man, I'll show you."

--

"That's a bridge!" Vince cried as he ran up to the old stone walkway. He peered over the edge and watched the lively stream skip and hop along below.

"Bridge." repeated Howard, like someone trying to learn the language. Vince turned around just in time to see Howard stoop down and pick up two sticks.

"Here," he passed one over and Vince looked at it curiously.

"Thanks," he scorned and Howard couldn't help but smile a little.

"This is the game," he reassured him, "we count to three and drop the sticks this side of the brig,"

"Bridge," Vince corrected him.

"Fine. Bridge," frowned Howard, "and then you run the other side of the _bridge_ and see who's stick arrives first; pooh sticks."

"But the sticks look exactly the same."

"No, no," Howard said, reaching over to point out a small knot on Vince's twig, "there's a difference."

"We'll never see that from up here."

"I will."

"I think you're going to cheat."

"I won't."

He did. He won every single round, even when Vince could have sworn blind he saw his stick first. He got bored of constantly losing after a while and Howard decided that it was time to go to the bakers for their loaf of bread.


	4. Chapter 4

Vince found he was almost running to keep up with Howard, the older boy's long stride taking him much further than Vince's tiny fairy steps. The bakery was set back from the road a little and had a table and a couple of chairs outside. It looked nice. The crisp sunlight shone off it making it seem perfect and if it hadn't been for the war and the bitter wind and Billy strolling quickly towards them, perhaps it would have been.

Howard saw Billy too. He immediately grabbed Vince's shoulder and dragged him into the bakery, hoping they hadn't been seen. They hadn't and Billy strolled past, just as arrogant as ever.

"I thought he was your friend," Vince whispered.

"Shut up," snapped Howard, releasing the scrunched up material of Vince's coat from his fist and walking to the counter.

"Naw then, Howard." the baker started, and then he began to talk in what was quite clearly a foreign language, "Wha' can I gerya?"

And weirdly, Howard seemed to speak it too."Umm, just a loaf of bread please Mr Hanlow."

"Aye. A' who be yer friend?"

"This is Vince," Vince nodded politely and smiled, when he heard his name, "he's been evacuated."

"Ah, poor lad. It's nut jannock. 'E look fair famished," growled the baker as he tried to find a bigger loaf, he'd always had a soft spot for Mrs Moon and her son.

"I think he's just skinny," Howard explained, with a bit of a grin.

"Aye. T' bread nooan reet good in London. Here, Vince, have a shauve." Vince looked up at the man. He had big thick eyebrows and a hard face broken only with numerous wrinkles, though he had kind brown eyes and he was holding out a thin slice of bread.

Vince smiled, scuttling over and snatching the bread away quickly. He took a bite and swallowed it down quickly,

"Hmm, delicious." He smiled; and it was.

He munched the rest of it down quickly, it was the best bread he'd ever tasted. He smiled broadly up at the baker and the baker smiled kindly back.

"Aye y'see Vince, I bin thrapin' t' bake t' best bread int Yorkshire. Nah, sharp quick, shift thissen and go ooame. Nooan reet t' see two young men nooan working or causin' trouble."

Howard chuckled politely. "Alright. Thanks Mr Hanlow. Have a nice day."

"A'll. G'bye a' nice leet you Vince."

Vince's eyes widened in horror. What? He wanted to shout.

"He said nice to meet you." Howard whispered in his ear.

"Nice to meet you too." Vince said, quickly trotting away from the man with the funny voice.

When they were a safe distance from the bakery Vince looked up at Howard and said, "I think he was a spy."

Howard just about managed to choke back his laughter enough to ask, "Why?"

"He couldn't speak English."

Howard did laugh then, long and loud but it wasn't malicious. He was just genuinely amused.

"Ah, he's alright," Howard promised, when he'd manage to stop laughing enough to say, "_e's jus' raht proper Norvern_," in his best Yorkshire accent.

"Don't," moaned Vince, "I haven't got a clue what you're saying."

Howard chuckled again and gave Vince a gentle shove in the shoulder. "Bloody Londoner," he mumbled fondly.

--

"So why _did _you avoid Billy?"

"I didn't," lied Howard. They were walking back to the house to drop off the bread and Vince would _not _let the subject drop.

"You did," Vince insisted, "you saw him and suddenly you were scurrying away like a mouse that had seen a cat. A big cat… with a gun … and a penchant for mice murdering."

"A what for mice murdering?" chuckled Howard. "Where did that word come from?"

"Is it not right?"

"No, it was. I just…" Howard trailed off embarrassedly.

"...didn't expect _me_ to know it?" Vince finished for him.

"Well…" Howard winced, he couldn't get out of this. He looked apologetically at the smaller boy to find him grinning widely.

"S'ok, it takes me by surprise when I say summat smart too. And don't try and change the subject, you avoided Billy."

"I didn't," Howard insisted, "now drop it!"

Vince's face fell a little then but the smile was soon creeping back. Howard wondered if it were even possible for this boy to be upset.

"Can you play football?" Vince asked suddenly.

"I, erm, yeah. A bit."

"Come on," Vince grinned, grabbing his arm, showing, yet again, his blatant disregard for Howard's personal space, "I bet I stuff you."

He did stuff Howard. Howard could barely coordinate his spindly, spider-like legs to run, let alone run _and _kick. It just wasn't possible. Vince on the other hand was able to do 46 keepie-ups and could run very quickly with a ball at his feet. Howard just gave up in the end and sat on the grass watching Vince continually running the ball between the 'goal posts' (a hedge and a tree) and cheering as though he wasn't winning…

"51-0" Vince beamed, flopping next to Howard, when he'd _finally _got bored.

"Alright, we'll call it a draw," offered Howard and Vince laughed as he twisted onto his stomach. His legs kicking up behind him 'like a girl', Howard thought. There were a lot of things about Vince that were 'like a girl'. He really was a very strange boy.

--

Mrs Moon pushed a bowl quarter full of soup in front of her son and gave him an apologetic look. Howard looked at Vince's bowl. It had more soup in it but it was hardly flushed with food. He smiled back. Times were tough, he thought.

"Are you settling in better Vince?" Mrs Moon asked kindly.

"Oh, yes Ma'am," he said enthusiastically, soup dribbling down his chin. "I feel really comfortable here now. People seem nice."

"That's good."

"Yes. It's good," repeated Vince quietly. He'd suddenly spotted the little food on his hosts plate. "Erm, would you like to share this?" He offered his bowl out to the other two.

"No, it's okay darling. You eat it up."

"Howard." Vince offered.

"I, er …" He did _want _the food and it wasn't as thought he'd asked for it. He'd been offered, "Thanks." he smiled, picking up the bowl and pouring a small amount of soup into his own bowl.

"Ah, you're bigger than me. You need more food." Vince smiled.

"Hmmm." Howard muttered, slurping his new soup hungrily. What is it about someone else's food that always makes it taste so much nicer?

"That's very nice of you Vince," Mrs Moon smiled, "and Howard needs to build his strength up for war."

"Mum, I'm not old enough yet."

"Eighteen months Howard. Hopefully it will be over by then but …" she trailed off and the pause was awkward for a moment. "Anyway," she started brightly "you're looking forward to serving the country."

"Oh yeah. Of course," Howard replied enthusiastically but there was something wrong. It was fake, Vince knew that, but Mrs Moon didn't seem to notice. She just smiled proudly as she tucked into her own bowl or soup.

--

"It's not that simple."

"It is!"

"It's not."

"It is!"

"Not."

"Is!"

"Not."

"IS!"

"Alright, don't shout you nutter."

"But you're not listening." Vince whinged. His leg twitched like he was about to stamp his foot but he managed to restrain himself at the last second.

"You're trying to teach me to _knit." _Howard frowned, looking down at the mess of wool and needles in his hands.

"And you're rubbish at it."

"Because it's the _woman's_ job." Howard growled, dropping the sorry, woollen mess to the floorboards.

"Howard Moon," scorned Vince in was a disturbingly motherly tone, as he picked up the mess and began to straighten out the wool and untangle the knots, "You're gonna need to be able to knit yourself stuff if you're on the frontline. What if you're sitting here, the Germans are … there," Vince gestured wildly to some space in the distance, "and, suddenly, you get a cold neck."

Howard chuckled, he couldn't help himself. "A cold neck?" he smirked.

"Yes. You're neck's really cold," Vince insisted, "and you'll think, if only I'd listened to my friend Vince, then I could knit one up. Now, listen and I'll teach you."

"Look, if I'm on the front line, I don't think my main concern will be a cold neck. It'll be a million other horrific things."

"Yeah, but if you're neck's warm then there'd only be nine hundred and er… nine thousand, nine hundred and, erm …" Vince poked his tongue out as he tried to work out the maths before coming to the conclusion that "there'd be one less thing to worry about."

"Hmm." Howard said sceptically but he still couldn't hide his smile. Speaking to Vince, Howard thought, was a welcome break from reality. The younger boy didn't seem to live in the real world. He lived in his own land, where cows are magical, intriguing creatures, where trees could very well have an equally interesting and disturbing back-story and where the biggest possible crisis is having a cold neck.

"You're not very enthusiastic. I thought you wanted to go to war and fight off the hun. Isn't that what you told your mum?"

"Yeeeeeah," Howard drawled, "and I do want to do that."

"You don't sound too sure," Vince said, sighing exasperatedly as he handed the, now tidy, wool back to Howard and wrapped it around his hands to make it easier for him to knit.

"No. I am sure." Howard insisted with more gusto.

Vince gave him a look which suggested he didn't believe him for a second and Howard quickly changed the subject.

"Right. Come on. How do I do this?"

Vince beamed and started nattering away about stitches and loops and a number of other things Howard simply couldn't follow.

----

School had been weird and Howard had quickly learned Vince could be very clingy. Having no friends in his own year to speak of, Vince was almost constantly following Howard and his friends.

"Hi," he'd beamed, waving like a madman for a while until he'd realised that none of Howard's friends wanted him there. Not that that realisation had stopped him. He'd just shrugged and hung about a few yards away like a annoying puppy on a tether of no longer than four foot.

--

"What are you doing?" Howard hissed on the way home.

Vince looked at the stick he was holding and the fence he was running it along. Surely it was obvious.

"Not that," Howard spat. "In school. You kept hanging around."

"Yeah." Vince fixed his big innocent eyes on Howard and the older boy was forced to look away.

"Well … don't," he muttered.

"Why not?"

"Because, because…" Howard wracked his brain, desperately trying to come up with any answer other than the truth. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of an appropriate lie so he shouted, "none of my friends want you there. They think you're a freak."

Vince fell quiet for a moment or two and his bright blue eyes dropped to the floor. The silence wrapped itself around them. Everything seemed awkward and uncomfortable. Howard wanted to scream. Usually he'd give anything for the little twerp to shut up but now he just wished he'd start babbling about cows or fields or anything.

Slowly, Vince raised his eyes, peered at Howard through his thick black fringe and said;

"You don't think I'm a freak, do you?"

Howard stayed silent. He didn't know what to say because the truth was that yes, he did think Vince was a freak. But he didn't care. He liked him anyway. He felt he could trust him. He felt he could be himself around him. He was the only person he'd ever truly been himself around. However, Howard didn't voice these feelings. He let the silence talk for him. He let it lie to this boy he considered a friend. He let it ruin every bond he'd forged and as Vince began to run away he tried not to care.

Vince always ran away. It was what he did when the situations got too much for him. He'd always ran away when he was at home. He'd run to his Nana's, who'd take him in and feed him too much of his favourite chicken dinner and spotted dick desert before ringing his mother to come and get him. He'd never really minded that his Nana _always _let his mum know where he was. He'd quite like it when she'd arrive looking all bedraggled and windswept as she'd hug him tight whilst scolding him about running away.

It turned out that Howard had a very different way of dealing with finding Vince. It started with,

"oh you're here," and continued with "come on then" whilst he walked off. It didn't take long for Vince to leap up and follow him. After all, who wants to sit on a grimy old bench outside the village hall on their own when the sun starts to set?

Howard heard the patter of tiny feet chasing him along the pavement and he smiled a little but as soon as the sound got close, he said,

"I'm sorry, you know. I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes you did," said Vince, as he appeared suddenly at Howard's side, "but I don't think you were trying to be mean … not really." Vince sighed. "I think," he began, in a way that suggested he'd really been thinking about this, "that you're a freak too. I think that's why you hid from Billy and that's why you like me."

"I like you?" Howard questioned, with a smile. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I can just tell," Vince promised, "and I think it's coz I let you share my chocolate."

"Riiiiight," Howard grinned, putting his arm around the smaller boys shoulders in a brotherly way, "lets go home, eh little man?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Ahoy there!! (What can I say? I live in a navy town now =P)  
Anyway, I just thought I should do a BIG thank-you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing this fic so far ... I know i've been really lazy with review replies and I'm sorry!! =[ This is where the real sorta plot starts kicking in now... *entices you in with proper plot* =]**

**This chapter is dedicated to _Brie_ because if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be finishing any of these fics ... THANK YOU BRIE!! And also to _Tamsin_ and _RoxxiSanders_ (justt because...) and also to _YOU_ - because I love you!! *nods***

**And now you all think i've lost it... on with the fic...**

* * *

Howard felt sick as he read the letter from Vince's mum aloud. He'd got used to reading them now. The first couple Vince had struggled through alone, trying to subtlety ask Howard how certain words were spelt so he could battle his way to the meaning. But, after a while, the subtlety wore off and Vince had just handed Howard the letter and asked him to read it for him. Howard had tried not to take too much of the letters in. They were, after all, Vince's private business but Vince kept wanting to discuss them afterwards, asking questions and talking things through. This time, however, Howard could hardly read the end of the letter, without wanting to tear it up just to stop himself from reading, to stop the words from being true.

_Dearest Vince,_

_I've heard that the Germans are starting to attack other parts of Britain, not just the towns. As there are no bomb shelters in the country, me and your Nana have decided that you would probably be safer at home with us._

_The train ticket is enclosed and a few coins just in case you need them. The train leaves on Saturday…_

Howard swallowed down the lump in his throat. Saturday, two days away.

_The train leaves on Saturday at 9.30 in the morning. Make sure you're at the station in plenty of time._

_See you soon darling,_

_Mum._

Howard lowered the letter slowly and was greeted by two large blue eyes sparkling with delight.

"I'm going home?" Vince questioned, grin stretched across his face.

"Yeah," Howard smiled weakly, "you're going home."

The cheer Vince let out broke Howard's heart. He didn't know why but he suddenly couldn't bear the thought of not having Vince around. He'd grown really fond of him. He was probably his best friend, not that he'd ever tell him that and now he was being ripped away. But worse still, he was going back to London. London, the city of bombs raids and thousands of deaths. Howard shuddered. There was no _way _it was safer there than in a small Yorkshire village miles from anything.

--

"Let's go out," Howard suggested, disrupting Vince's packing again. "Come on," he insisted, "lets go down to the farm."

"But I'm leaving tomorrow," laughed Vince as he felt himself being tapped awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Exactly, you have to say goodbye to the cows."

"And to think you used to laugh at me when I talked to animals."

"No, I laughed because you said they talked back," Howard corrected, before dragging Vince to his feet and pulling him down to the farm.

They just strolled around the wide open fields for ages. Howard because he never wanted this Friday to end and Vince because he'd suddenly realised he might never see grass again. He said this aloud.

"So you're never going to come and visit me when this war is all over?" Howard said, flopping into the long grass and lazing out.

"_If _this war is ever over," Vince corrected, flopping next to him.

"It'll end one day," Howard promised, "it has to."

"It's too late though, isn't it?" Vince said suddenly. His voice was low and his tone haunted. Howard had only ever heard him speak like this when the war was mentioned. It was as though the war was the only chord of reality in the symphony of fantasy that was Vince's world.

"Too late for what?" Howard asked, almost fearful of the answer.

"Them. All of them. Your dad, my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Not anymore," Vince answered coldly, "the war took them, like it takes everyone. Like it'll take you and later me…" he trailed off, his fingers playing idly with the tips of the long grass. The silence hung between them for a moment or two, painfully obvious until Vince broke it with; "D'you think that elves could use this grass as a giant slide? That'd be good, wouldn't it?"

Howard smiled a little, though he had nothing to smile about. In that split second, Vince had let him in further than he ever had before and then, he'd switched off again and gone back to fantasy. Howard reached out suddenly and pressed a kiss onto Vince's messy black hair.

He didn't know why he did it. Vince wasn't sure either but neither mentioned it. They both just allowed it to happen and that was how it started. How it first truly blossomed, just hours before Vince was taken back to London.

----

It had been almost a year since Vince had gone back to London but Howard still slept with the pillows down the middle of the bed. It was strange but the bed just seemed to vast and empty with out them. His mum had tried to take them away on numerous occasions but Howard had protested until she'd given in. He felt like they were the only reminder of Vince he really had, apart from the badly scribbled letters he had under his bed. The letters were often short and covered in black pen (things the government deemed inappropriate in a letter). They were always misspelt and scrawled but they were from Vince, so Howard kept everyone. They'd written as much as they could but it was hard to keep in contact really. Howard could have filled library's with the amount he wanted to write to Vince about but it had always been impractical to think of sending pages and pages of writing to boy who's not very good at reading.

Most of Vince's letters were drawings but sometimes he wrote. Howard kept everything safe in the draw, which was still known as 'Vince's draw' and he got them out now and again because sometimes, he needed to feel close to Vince.

--

"…it'll be great. We'll just get drunk and have a right laugh. My dad's got some whiskey stored under his bed that he doesn't know I know about," grinned Billy. "It'll be a right laugh. A celebration for Harry and me going to kill a few damn Germans. You coming Howard?"

"Well, erm…"

"Come on. Jenny'll be there." Harry said, nudging Howard with his elbow, "and we all know you like her."

"I don't."

"Liar. Look how red he is Bill."

"I know and you know, if you say you're going to war then she'll definitely put out."

"Yeah, definitely," agreed Harry.

Howard gave a non-committal hum. He wasn't sure he wanted Jenny to 'put out' as they so beautifully put it. He liked her, of course he did. She was a very attractive young lady. She had good taste in stationary and had the most impeccable bookmarks and it was well known that she was the best trumpet player in the village but she wasn't quite right.

He walked the rest of the way to school in silence, letting his friends chat at him about Jenny and drinking.

--

Howard went to the party. He knew he would, he wasn't brave enough to say 'no'. He wasn't good at making friends, so he couldn't really afford to lose the ones he had, no matter what he thought of them. The so called 'party' was a bit rubbish. It consisted of Billy, Harry and the other boys who were being drafted sharing a couple of cans and a bottle of whiskey and a few girls watching them and discussing how brave they all were. Howard was bored by the whole thing.

Jenny was there. She also looked bored. She kept looking over to Howard, smiling a little before turning away and blushing. Howard shrugged. He didn't understand girls.

"Go over there," Billy moaned, dragging Howard to his feet and pushing him in the direction of Jenny.

"Why?"

"Because she _likes _you," Billy said, pushing him again. Howard stumbled a little, so Billy shoved him harder. He kept pushing him until Howard fell almost straight into Jenny's lap.

"Hello," she giggled.

"Hi."

--

The moon was full and the night was cold and still. Howard knew they should have been inside but it seemed peaceful. They were sat on the trunk of a fallen tree that lay in the field behind Harry's house.

"Look at the stars," sighed Jenny, as she leant he head on Howard's shoulder. "They're beautiful. It's like looking into heaven."

"Yeah," Howard agreed, though he couldn't help feel Vince was more right when he'd said each one was a different planet filled with a million and one new creatures.

"My mum says that each star is the soul of a soldier and they're watching over the rest of us."

"Maybe," Howard agreed again.

"You're so quiet," Jenny sighed, "so mysterious… I wonder if anyone knows the real Howard Moon. I wonder if anyone will get to know him."

Howard stayed silent.

"Could I get to know him?" she asked, removing her head from his shoulder and looking him right in the eye.

Howard was about to shrug, when he felt a pair of lips pressed against his own. The lips were soft and accompanied by a sweet, flowery smell. He pulled away after a moment and Jenny giggled.

"Sorry," she blushed.

"No … I…" But Howard didn't know. He didn't know anything. The girl of his dreams had just kissed him and all he could think about was a horrible, bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt like it was churning everything up and throwing it about inside him. He felt sick. This must be the feeling people talk about when you find _the one_. This must be _that_ feeling, the one discussed so often in books.

Jenny kissed him again. It was longer this time and he felt her arms wrap around his neck. He tried to relax but he couldn't. He felt sick but in a good way. At least he assumed this was a good way, though it didn't really feel good. It didn't feel good at all.


	6. Chapter 6

That night, tucked up in bed, all Howard could think of was Vince. He'd thrown up when he'd got home but he'd blamed it on the alcohol, even though he'd hardly had a sip of whiskey. He wasn't sure what was wrong entirely. He felt somehow guilty and he wasn't sure why. He didn't sleep that night. Instead, he got up and read his letters from Vince.

_Howard,_

_It's horrible in London. People are really sad but they are pretending to bee happy and friendly so that Hitler gets the wrong impressing. Nana's teached me to knit agen. See, I told you it was important. She said Oncle Albert got a cold neck and died. Wot if you get a cold neck and die? Don't die Howard._

_I'll sea you when the war is over._

_Vince_

_-_

_Howard, _

_The whether is rubbish. It keeps raneing all over my garden. I'm trying to grow potatoes over our bom shelter so I can't see it. It's knot working. There's bit of silver poking threw everywhere. I might cover it with a blanket. Did you get the scarf I made you? You better where it._

_Vince_

_-_

_Howard_

_I'm riting this is the chelter in the garden. I can't see very well becos the only light is from a rubish oil lamp. Nana says it's got history but it's just old. It's really loud now. I can here the exploshuns and then it's relly quiet. I'm scared Howard and the rats are biger than me.._

_I wish sumtimes that I'm back in Yorkshire with you and your mum but my mum says I'm safer here. I don't feel safer. There goes another bom. I miss you._

_Vince_

_-_

_Howard,_

_I'm glad you're mum is better. It's good my scarf came in to good use. The sirens are still going off hear. Every night, we have to go to the shelter. It's scarey. I don't like it. I've drawn you a picture of our street coz you said you'd never seen a proper London road. Also, I drew a cow. I miss the cowz._

_And you._

_Vince_

_-_

_Howard,_

_Thank you for the birthday card. I thort you'd forget but you didn't. I spent most of the day playing farmyards in the living room. I was a cow that had gone to a magical land, where unicorns didn't allow bad people to exist. It was fun. I had a ride on a dragon and he took me to his cave where he made me a birthday cake, which had so many candles the it melted and became a stick and hoop._

_How are you? They're saying the war is coming to an end. When it does, I'm going to come and see you agen. I miss you so much sometimes._

_Sea you soon._

_Vince_

_

* * *

_

Howard put down the letters and wiped away a tear from his eye. They'd all been so short. So insignificant at the time, just a means of keeping in touch, whilst they both willed the war away. But now it was over. Everyone had heard the news. It happened all the time of course but never before had the words, 'direct hit on the street, thousands of innocent civilians killed' been more painful in Howard's ears.

He'd recognised the street name immediately. He knew Vince's address of by heart and when he saw the destroyed wreckage in the newspaper he could match up certain buildings from the one in Vince's drawing. Vince had dran it perfectly, apart from the random cow right in the middle of it all. Although, of course, in Vince's drawing, the houses and been standing tall and people had been milling about.

Howard hadn't been able to stop himself from searching for Vince's house amongst the rubble. He'd somehow hoped it would still be standing proud in the middle of the street but when he found it, he felt sick. There was just one remaining wall with one beam jutting from the middle and piles of rubble and the building's feet. Howard threw the photo down and ran to the bathroom. He locked the door and refused to leave for the rest of the day. Every time his mother walked past she heard hysterical sobs and horrific retching but he wouldn't tell her what was wrong.

Howard didn't speak to anyone for days. Jenny came over but he ignored her. Mr Hanlow, the baker, tried to have a word but Howard would just turn away. The vicar tried to make him talk but Howard wasn't interested. He would just stare out of the window, across the wide open fields and all he could see would be the image of a fallen home.

Eventually, of course, he did start to talk again. It had been Jenny that had finally broken him. She'd just sat next to him and talked and talked (as though he were in a coma). Howard had let her words wash over him without taking anything in until eventually she had said,

"Coz dad reckons the cows are more trouble that they're worth but I was asking, how are we gonna get milk if there are no cows?"

"You can't get rid of the cows." Howard had blurted out. What would Vince think?

"Howard!" she'd beamed, flinging her arms around his neck and holding him close. "You're back."

Even after a month of talking, Howard still wouldn't tell anyone what had been wrong. He just couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud because if he didn't say them, then perhaps it wasn't true. If he didn't admit it to himself, then Vince could still be alive, running around the grimy backstreets of London, dreaming of fields and fantasy worlds. He certainly wasn't another unnamed soul joining the endless list of war victims.

--

Jenny came over all the time after that. Being branded, the one who'd brought Howard Moon out of his depression had meant that Mrs Moon wanted her to spend as much time as possible with her son. So, they'd become virtually inseparable and, although Howard liked spending time with Jenny, he didn't really like the feeling he still had in the pit of his stomach when they kissed goodnight. His mother seemed to approve though. She was very fond of Jenny. Howard wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this.

--

The knock at the door hardly registered as he read over the letters again. He knew them off by heart now but that wasn't the point of reading. When he read them, he felt close to Vince, like a piece of him was still there. Howard could hear voices downstairs. Men's voices. They sounded stern and official but at the same time sympathetic. He leapt up suddenly, maybe it had something to do with his dad. He clattered down the stairs, stumbling his way into the sitting room where he was greeted by two men in uniform and a small boy in a red scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Except he wasn't a small boy anymore. He was a young man, with jet black hair and startling blue eyes that lit up when Howard entered the room.

"Vince?" Howard asked dumbly and his stomach did a bit of a back flip.

"Hey Howard," he waved boyishly.

"But you're dead."

Vince chuckled a little, "not yet."

Howard frowned. He didn't understand. Vince had died. The news had told him so. His street, his shelter had blown up. How was he here?

"… hasn't got any other family," one of the men was explaining, "we were wondering if you'd be willing to take him."

Mrs Moon looked at Vince and shrugged, "I suppose we can take him back," she smiled, "I'll get some food on. You know your way around Vince, just put your possessions wherever you want in Howard's bedroom."

"Thanks," he said, "I'll do that now." But as he stood, it became obvious that he had no possessions to speak of. He walked quickly from the room, eyes fixed on Howard, begging him to follow. Howard didn't hesitate.

--

Vince sat dejectedly on 'his side' of the bed.

"Why are the pillows still here?" He asked, "you couldn't have known I was coming back."

"I didn't. I just… I prefer it like that." Howard shrugged, sitting next to Vince. They were both quiet for a while. There was too much to be asked and Howard couldn't think of an order. He'd always been just a little clumsy when he spoke. However, he knew that eventually Vince would fill the room with words and Howard had always been very good at listening.

"Did you really think I was dead?"

"What?" Even though Howard had been expecting it, the abruptness of the question meant his brain hadn't had time to form an answer.

"I mean, I should be dead." Vince continued. "I should have been in that shelter, when it was blown to hell. The only reason I wasn't was because I didn't have time to get there. I was at the grocers so I just ran to the nearest underground. Everyone was praying so I joined in. I'm not even religious," he chuckled a bit, though nothing was even remotely funny. "But maybe it worked, 'coz I should have been in my house that night." The silence wormed its way back into the room and Vince shuddered a little, moving closer to Howard. "People keep saying I'm lucky," Vince said after a while. "Do you think I'm lucky, Howard?"

"Yes. Very. You could have been killed."

"But I've lost everything. I don't even have a pair of shoes," he pointed at his grubby, naked feet. Howard looked for a second before standing up and going to his wardrobe.

"Here," he said on his return, holding out a pair of leather shoes for Vince. "They're a bit horrible but…"

Vince just laughed and threw his arms around Howard's neck. "I've missed you," he whispered in his ear and Howard felt a damp spread of tears on his neck.

--

Vince had gone to bed early. Really early and although Howard had been tempted to go too, he decided against it. He wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway. So, instead, he sat downstairs and talked with his mum.

"How long is he here then?"

"Until his eighteenth birthday but of course the army will take him then anyway."

Howard nodded, silently sipping his drink.

"Not long until they'll be knocking the door for you. I'm sure you can't wait, can you? Serving your country, just like your father. It would've made him so proud."

Howard nodded again, still not making a sound.

"You do still want to follow in your father's footsteps, don't you?"

"Of course," Howard lied. He didn't but what choice did he have really? Anyway, that wasn't what was worrying him. He'd resigned himself to the thought of going to war years ago. What he hadn't readied himself for was Vince going to war. That thought made him feel sick inside.

"You don't have to worry about Jenny," Mrs Moon said eventually, "I'm sure she'll wait for you. She loves you, you know."

"Love?" Howard choked.

"Yes, I know you probably haven't told each other yet but I can see it. Just the way you are with each other. It's so obvious."

"Is it?"

"Yes, you foolish boy. Why are men so difficult when it comes to matters of the heart?"

"I…" Howard trailed off shrugging. Love. Love? Was that what love was? He'd always thought it would be more exciting than that. "Anyway, I'm going to bed." Howard said.

"Ha," mocked his mother gently, "typical man. First mention of the word love and they're running away."

"What?"

"I'm joking darling. You look shattered and pale. Go to bed. Goodnight."

"Night."

--

Howard opened the door to his bedroom as quietly as he could. He slid inside and crept to his bed avoiding the creaking floorboards. He didn't want to wake Vince. He'd probably had had a very long and stressful time recently and Howard guessed this would have been the first decent nights sleep he'd have had in a while.

Howard quickly changed into his flannel pyjamas and was slipping silently under the duvet when a voice made him jump;

"I can't sleep," it said, then it giggled and apologised, when Howard let out a little, girlish scream.

"You scared me," whispered Howard pulling the duvet over himself, "why can't you sleep?"

"I don't know. I'm all warm and cosy but every time I close my eyes I feel like I'm back in the shelter on my own."

Howard shifted and turned in the direction of Vince.

"You're safe now," he said. He sounded clichéd, even in his head but it was the only thing he could think of.

"Howard," Vince whispered quietly.

"What?"

"Do you think we could move these cushions?"

"I, erm, I guess so… why?"

"It's just. I don't wanna feel like I'm alone … I … would you…? Howard?"

"What?" Howard asked, half exasperated, half laughing.

"Can I have a cuddle?"

Howard was about to shout 'no', when he was overcome by a real need to cuddle Vince. He removed the pillows from the middle of the bed and Vince shuffled across until he was pressed right against Howard's side. Howard slid and hand around Vince and Vince rested his head on Howard's shoulder. It felt strangely relaxing, to have someone pressed up against him. A little bit wrong and something told Howard he shouldn't be enjoying it this much but the little whirl of excitement in his gut told a whole different story and Howard began to worry that maybe _this_ was that feeling they spoke about in books and if so, what did it mean?

* * *

**Please R&R!  
Having a bad week and reviews make me smiley and happy!  
xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and everyone who's reading. I'm really glad you're all sticking with this fic!  
More from WW2 Boosh...**

* * *

In the morning, the cuddling was not spoken about. They both got dressed, went down for breakfast and ate in almost silence. Howard couldn't help stealing looks at the other boy though. He'd grown up so much in a year. He'd lost a ton of baby fat, too much baby fat in fact, now he closely resembled a stick. His eyes were somehow bluer than they used to be but somehow more haunted too. His hair was glossier, his cheekbones more pronounced. Vince was a good-looking guy, anyone could see that, delicate and a little feminine sometimes, with his fitted clothes but definitely male. There was no mistaking that.

Vince caught Howard looking at him a few times and smiled as he dipped his spoon into his lumpy, grey porridge. He was glad that they were able to carry on like before, after all, Howard was the only person left that he cared about.

Mrs Moon bustled her way over to the table and put half a slice of toast next to their bowls.

"It's going stale," she explained, when Howard looked confused. They never had toast for breakfast. There simply wasn't enough bread.

"Right," Howard frowned, lifting the toast and flipping in his fingers. He half expected to see green fungus growing out of it.

"Stop studying it and eat," Mrs Moon scolded, slapping his wrist sharply, "and be grateful."

"I am," protested Howard, ignoring the shadow of Vince that was giggling in the corner of his eye.

"Did you sleep well Vincent?" Mrs Moon asked, sitting down to join them.

"Yes thank you, Mrs Moon. It was very peaceful," he smiled.

"Yes, well, you're safe now." Vince shovelled a spoonful of porridge into his mouth and nodded. "But, if you ever need to talk about … anything," Mrs Moon said in a way she hoped was comforting and motherly, "then don't hesitate."

"I won't." Vince said, looking at Howard as the older boy nodded his agreement.

--

"You need a flowerbed," Vince announced on the way to school.

"Why?"

"So we can grow our own food."

"We haven't got any seeds."

"Oh … well, we could always nick 'em from the farmer."

"Don't come up here with your London way of thinking."

"It's called looting. It's what people do when you're house has been hit by a bomb. They run in and steal everything you own… like you haven't lost enough already."

Howard was quiet for a second, "did they do that to your house?"

Vince nodded, "they took everything … except this," he added, taking a pocket watch from deep inside his coat. "It was my dad's," he explained. "It's the only thing I've got left now. I'm gonna give it back to him one day, when I meet him again."

Howard nodded, "I think he'd probably like that."

"Yeah. I reckon. I reckon this is probably magic."

"Why?"

"Well, it's so old… everything old is magic. That's how it works in stories. Always go for the old ones coz they're always magic."

Howard shook his head and shoved Vince in the shoulder. "You're mad, you know that?"

"Yeah, you love me for it."

Howard's heart skipped a beat and he watched Vince's ever-lasting smile falter a little. He quickly changed the subject, not that there was a subject of course, just a stupid, flippant comment that had meant nothing. Nothing.

"So, does that man who can't speak English still work in the bakers?"

Howard chuckled a little, grateful for the break in the silence "yes."

"And what about Billy and Harry? Are they still bullying you into doing things you don't want to?"

"No they've gone. And they didn't bully me."

"Whatever shrimp eyes," chuckled the smaller boy, "who d'you hang around with now then? Or d'you just go up to the _brig _and play pooh sticks by yourself?"

"Excuse you _sir. _You can't just come back to my village and start throwing your insults around all willy-nilly."

Vince barked a strange, but somehow infectious, laugh and repeated, "willy-nilly?"

"Yes," Howard said, trying to strike a pose that was both dignified and noble but managing to strike a pose that was neither of these things and only served to make him seem childish and sulky. This only made Vince laugh harder.

"Shut up," Howard snapped eventually.

"Ha! Are you ten?" Vince asked, and without pause, "Hey, do the school still have the pet hamster?"

"Erm, no it died."

"Everything does nowadays," shrugged Vince. Then he looked up, past Howard's right ear and said, "you know her?"

Howard span around and saw Jenny waving at him. He smiled back and she kissed him on the cheek, when she got close. Vince didn't really hear her name, when Howard introduced her. He wasn't sure why but something about her made him hate her. Maybe it was her dark brown hair. Maybe it was her tiny, evil eyes. Maybe it was the way she had her hands splayed across Howard's chest, whilst his arms hung limply by his side. Vince frowned and didn't stop frowning, even when Jenny held her hand out to shake his. He just stared at it until she let it drop.

"Nice to meet you," he lied, "I'm going to be late. See you later."

"What was that about?" Jenny asked, pushing her cheek against Howard's corduroy lapel.

"I couldn't tell you," he answered honestly.

--

Howard waited for Vince by the gate at the end of school but he never showed up. Jenny did. She waited with him for a while but when it started to get dark, she gave up.

"He's obviously gone home Howard," she pointed out, "he's probably waiting for you to visit the cows or something."

"Hey," Howard warned, "don't be mean."

"Well, you said he was a lovely person and he completely ignored me."

"I know," he sighed, "that was weird."

"Hmm. Anyway, I'm going home. Are you coming?"

"Erm, no. I'll just wait a few more minutes…"

"Howard," she groaned, "don't stay out all night."

"Okay."

"No, promise me."

"I promise."

"Okay," she sighed, she leant up and kissed him goodnight and Howard, as always, felt sick.

--

He'd waited another hour after Jenny left before finally calling it a day and leaving. He didn't want to go straight home though, he didn't feel like it. He wanted to be alone for a bit longer so he went to the bridge. To his surprise, as he clambered down the bank and crept onto the footpath underneath the bridge, he saw Vince, huddled in a ball, shaking violently. Howard took his coat off and wrapped it around Vince's shoulders before joining him on the cold ground.

Vince thought about shrugging the jacket off but he _was_ cold and it was cosy and smelt of Howard.

"How long have you been here?" Howard asked after a moment or two.

"Since I last saw you."

"Okaaay. Why?"

"Because…" Vince sulked.

"Are you ten?" Howard asked, throwing Vince's mocking words from earlier back in his face but it didn't work.

"I wish I was. Coz then, I wouldn't care about all … this."

"All what?"

"Everything."

"Vince, what are you talking about?"

"Life."

"Vince!"

"What!?" He snarled.

"Stop being so bloody cryptic!" Howard shouted. He grabbed the front of Vince's shirt and pulled him towards him so their faces were inches from each other. Their breath mingled in short angry pants and their hearts beat in perfect unison. Vince's hard stare softened but he didn't take his eyes off Howard's. Howard tried to look away but he couldn't. He was hypnotised by the boy in front of him. His eyes flicked to Vince's lips, just as a pointy, red tongue slid over them, making them somehow inviting.

Howard felt his insides squeeze into a ball but it was a good feeling, as though a million and one fluttering butterflies were flittering a beautiful dance. Howard felt Vince slump forward in his grasp. He felt Vince's cheek against his own. He felt the thinnest scrape of stubble as the younger boy pressed his nose into the crook of Howard's neck and breathed in deeply.

Howard felt himself release Vince's shirt. His fingers moving instead to trace light patterns over Vince's ribs as Vince pressed his face even closer to Howard's. Howard could tell Vince's lips were parted. He could hear the breathing, warm and wet by his ear, and he heard the words,

"I'm sorry," before Vince pulled away and went back to looking at the river.

Howard felt a shiver run through him. He pretended it was because he was cold from the lack of contact. The silence was deafening now and he felt like he should say something. He felt like he should ask if Vince too had a dance troupe of butterflies in his belly but instead he just stared at the water until his stomach was fluttering for a whole other reason. He suggested they go home for some food.

--

Howard didn't sleep that night. He just kept replaying the moment by the river over and over in his mind. He wasn't sure what had happened. He certainly didn't know what it meant but he knew he wanted it to happen again. He just didn't know how.

It was very late or perhaps very early in the morning when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked down at it, to see that Vince had moved the cushions. Even in the blackness, Howard could pick out Vince's eyes, looking at him.

"I had a nightmare," he explained and without thinking, Howard wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

--

Things carried on like this for a while. This mundane existence in a time when things were hard, broken only by mere moments of tender truth that were never mentioned but never forgotten.

Jenny was still around. She was Howard's girlfriend. His future wife. Howard knew that. Jenny knew that. Even Vince knew that but that didn't mean he had to like it. Vince didn't like Howard when he was with Jenny. He liked him when she was gone because when she was gone, that's when Howard could stop playing at being responsible and husbandly and just be himself, with Vince. That was Vince's Howard. No one else got to see him and as far as Vince was concerned they were missing out.

"Mum, we're going to the old oak."

"It's really very late. It'll be the blackout soon." His mother said sternly.

"We won't be long," Howard promised, "it's just, there's no clouds tonight and there's a particularly interesting star constellation I want to show Vince. It looks like Tommy Nooka, the great explorer."

"Well," she wavered, "be quick."

--

"This sounds well boring Howard," moaned Vince, as he picked his way daintily across the field after his friend. "Stars in the shape of a dead old man with cheese for a head."

"He hasn't got cheese for a head!"

"He has," insisted Vince, "I've seen a picture… well, I drew a picture."

"You also drew a picture of me with a balloon for a head and a picture of Jenny that looked like a gorilla."

"I draw what I see," shrugged Vince but there was a wicked glint in his eye as he remembered Jenny's face when she'd looked at her portrait.

Howard looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Vince just laughed and said,

"Where are these stars then?"

"Patience," sighed Howard, sitting down under the tree and leaning against the trunk. He looked up. "You can't really see the constellations unless you find them yourself."

"This isn't going to be another stationary village thing, is it? '_If you can't see stationary village'_" he mimicked, "_'then you can't take anything from stationary village_'."

"Yeah, well … you didn't have to blitz it with a rubber."

"Look, it was clearly a German city," chuckled Vince, sitting next to Howard and looking up, "Oooo. Look." He pointed up.

"What, what is it? Can you see Tommy Nooka?"

"No, look. The moon's full. You can see his face and everything. You know, I think the moon's just a man's face covered in shaving cream. Look." he pointed again, "What d'you reckon?"

"I reckon you're a little bit mad."

"Why?"

"A man's face covered in shaving cream?"

"Yeah."

"Mad," Howard repeated, reaching over to pat Vince's leg in a condescending fashion. On the second pat, Vince caught Howard's hand and held it gently in his own. Howard didn't pull away. It felt strangely comfortable as Vince entwined their fingers together.

They didn't talk for a moment or two. They both just watched the stars above them.

"You know," Vince said eventually, "the longer you stare, the more stars you can see. The more potential planets that appear."

"Mmm," Howard hummed his agreement.

"Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"You know Jenny?"

"Yes…"

"Do you…? Never mind."

"No, what?" Howard asked, his hand subconsciously closing around Vince's more tightly.

"Just … do you?"

"Do I what?"

"You _know _what!" Insisted Vince, glaring deep into Howard's soul. They scowled at each other for a second until Howard relaxed again, returning to his original position, his hand still tightly clasped in Vince's.

"Do I?" he asked. His eyes sliding sideways enough to see Vince nodding. He let his eyes drift back to the sky. Of course it was at that moment that he spotted the Tommy Nooka constellation but it wasn't important anymore. He felt a damp, sheen of sweat form between his and Vince's fingers and he sighed heavily.

"No," he answered, "I don't." And he thought he heard Vince whisper;

"Good."


	8. Chapter 8

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

Ping.

"You're _rubbish_!"

"Shut up."

Ping.

Silence.

"That didn't even hit the bottle."

"Shhhh. I'm concentrating."

Ping.

"It doesn't seem to be helping."

"Shhhhh!"

Ping.

Ping.

"Last one."

"Shhhhh!"

Ping.

"So, that's naught," Vince wrote a big fat zero on the paper under Howard's name, "out of ten. Good effort," he smirked.

"Let's see you do better then," frowned Howard, picking up the clothes pegs that were scattered at the foot of the empty milk bottle.

"I can't do any worse," Vince pointed out. Of course his first bloody peg went straight in and he grinned wildly at Howard.

"I hate you," the older boy said and Vince grinned even wider as he dropped the second peg in too. In the end he got seven out of the ten pegs and Howard decided they should play something different.

"What though?" asked Vince, tipping the clothes pegs back into their drawer and replacing the milk bottle on the front step. We've played every game in the world and it's _still _raining."

"We could play tidily-winks."

"No."

"Marbles?"

Vince shot Howard a filthy look and the older boy giggled. "Look, don't blame me because _you _thought they looked like sweets and ate one."

"You could have stopped me."

"I know but I did kind of want to see what would happen."

"You're a tit."

"A what?"

"A bluetit. It's a bird."

"Riiiight," frowned Howard, as he sifted through his numerous puzzles, though he didn't exactly think Vince would be interested in sitting down and doing a 5000 piece puzzle of a globe. He threw it onto the carpet anyway and Vince just snorted and flung himself into a chair.

"I'd rather chew on a bread knife."

"You're welcome to try," Howard offered politely and Vince shot him a childish scowl. He lifted his knee up and rested his pointed chin on it as Howard tipped the pieces all over the floor.

"They're all brown," groaned Vince, "how can you possibly know which piece goes where?"

"I don't. That's the point. You _find _the right piece."

"Boooring," droned Vince, fiddling with his toes, thought his holey socks.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Howard got to his feet and went to answer it.

"Howard," came the voice and Vince groaned. Jenny.

"Hello, come in. I'm just about to start a puzzle."

"Ooo, I love puzzles."

She would. Vince scowled, slumping down further into the chair.

"Oh, hello Vince," Jenny smiled as she settled herself on the floor next to the puzzle, "are you helping with the puzzle too?"

"Erm, no," Vince sighed.

"Oh, okay."

Vince sat watching the puzzle taking shape. Jenny kept leaning across and touching Howard's hands, his leg, his arms and then they'd both giggle and laugh. Vince didn't like it, it made his guts crunch together and his nails dig into his palms. It seemed to be hours later when Vince finally became totally fed-up of it.

"Where are you going?" Howard asked, as Vince pulled his shoes on.

"Dunno," he shrugged, "anywhere. Out."

"But it's raining."

"Oh well." And with that, he was gone.

Vince went where he always went. He hid under the bridge and watched the river skip by. He stared out across the water as the rain thundered down upon it. It looked strange and the lightening flashed suddenly, lighting the sky up and Vince shuddered. It reminded him of the bombs in London. His hair was plastered to his head and he wasn't sure if the water running down his face was rain or tears. The thunder rumbled and Vince pulled his legs up to his chest. The lightning flashed.

--

"Vince!" Howard shouted as he ducked under the bridge. "Vince!"

Vince stirred a little in his uncomfortable sleep, making a soft murmuring noise, so soft that Howard nearly missed it.

"Vince?" he questioned again, straining his eyes into the blackness. Then the lighting struck and in the split second of light, Howard saw Vince's body flopped in the dirt.

"Vince," he said, running over and shaking the younger boys shoulders. "Vince. Are you okay?"

Vince stirred a little and Howard pushed his fringe from his eyes.

"Vince," he called.

"Mmm. Wha' m'asleep."

"Vince. You're under a bridge. Come home."

"What?" Vince asked, his eyes finally fluttering open. He shuddered violently and sniffed.

"Come on. Come home."

Vince nodded, weakly. He was a little confused but he trusted Howard and allowed himself to be dragged to his feet. He leant against Howard's side and the older boy held him steady as he helped him through the torrents of rain back to the house.

--

Howard placed a blanket over Vince's shoulders and wrapped the duvet tight around him, tucking it in either side. Then he led on the bed next to him and wrapped himself around Vince as much as he could. Anything to warm him up a bit.

Vince mumbled, when Howard put his arms around him. He turned into the embrace and tilted his head back until he found Howard's chin with his lips. He pressed forward, blind in the dark room until he found Howard's mouth. He kissed him gently and then, fell asleep. Howard didn't sleep that night but that didn't stop him wondering, when he got up in the morning, if he'd been dreaming.

--

Things played on Howard mind for a long time. He felt now, that every time he was alone with Vince he was being drowned in something he couldn't name. It was as though he needed to grab Vince, to cling on to him like a life raft but, at the same time, the raft was on fire. He felt like he had to choose, did he let himself drown or get himself burnt?

--

"You seem quiet," Jenny said, wiggling her fingers into Howard's clenched fist as they walked down the pavement.

"Do I? Sorry." He ran his other hand through his hair but he didn't say anymore. He hadn't really wanted her here. He was supposed to be walking and thinking alone. If he'd wanted company, he'd have asked for it. Jenny had just appeared and now she wouldn't go away.

"Is something troubling you?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Is it because it's nearly your birthday?"

Howard hadn't even thought about that but she was right, it was only a few months now until he'd be drafted and pledging his life to King and country.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You know, I'll be here when you get back," she promised.

"Yeah."

"We all will. And you will get back. I know you will."

"Mmm."

"Howard. I always want to be there for you."

"Yeah."

"I think I… I mean, I love you."

"Mmm." Howard hummed. He wasn't listening. He was looking at the ground, watching his feet move, one in front of the other and thinking about his life. About Vince.

"Howard?"

"…"

Vince.

"Howard."

"…"

Vince.

"Howard!"

He jumped, "What?"

"You weren't listening to me."

"I was." Howard insisted.

"What did I say?"

"I … erm … something about chicken." He guessed. She slapped him. Obviously he'd guessed wrong.

"I poured my heart out then," she yelled "and you didn't even listen!"

"Jenny," he moaned as she began to walk away, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Jenny, come back. Let's talk about this."

She didn't come back and as she rounded the corner of the street, Howard kicked out at a nearby wall, causing a sharp shooting pain to surge through his toes.

--

Howard threw his bedroom door open and stomped, well limped, in with a face like thunder. He slammed his coat onto the floor, kicked his shoes off violently and slammed the door shut again, all under the watchful eye of Vince, who'd been sat on the bed drawing. The younger boy waited a second or two before asking brightly,

"Good walk?"

"Shut up."

"Thought so," he smiled and went back to sketching.

"My life's a mess," cried Howard throwing himself dramatically onto the bed.

"Oh, here we go. Drama, drama," sighed Vince, still not looking up from his notepad.

"Well… aren't you going to ask me what happened?"

"What's the point? You're clearly going to tell me anyway."

Howard scowled for a second. He did think about keeping quiet just to make a point but he needed to vent his anger somewhere.

"I woke up in a bad mood," he began and Vince smiled as he put his notebook and pencil down.

"I know. You didn't eat any breakfast and then you threw Naboo across the room."

"Well, you shouldn't have a bloody teddy anyway. You're a man for God's sake." He did have to remind himself of that sometimes.

"I'm gonna blame that on your bad mood. Go on, tell me what happened," Vince encouraged.

"Well, I thought I'd get out of here and clear my head a bit. Get some fresh air."

"I know, you said before you left."

"Just listen, will you?"

Vince thought about responding with a childish 'oooooooooo' but Howard looked like he might rip his head off if he did. So instead he just said, "alright. What happened then?"

"Well, I'm just walking and thinking, when Jenny comes along…"

"Oh _her._"

"… and she starts talking away about … something."

"Interesting then?"

"And I'm not listening, it's just sort of background music. You know how I like music on when I'm concentrating."

"Mmm."

"Anyway, she must have said something important because next second she's slapping me for not answering her and running away crying."

"What were you talking about before she ran off?"

"I don't know… I think she said something about waiting for me when I go to war."

Vince shivered. He didn't like the thought of Howard going to the front line. "She told you she'd wait for you?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty big."

"Yeah."

"So she must have said something even bigger."

"What's bigger than that?"

"What about, 'I love you'?"

"You don't think she'd have said…" Howard trailed off dumbly as flashes of memory came back to him, like remembering a dream. "Shit, he whistled.

"Howard Moon!" Scorned Vince mockingly, "language."

"She loves me?"

"Well obviously."

"Well, what do I do?"

"I dunno," Vince said, "don't care either," he lied, picking his drawing back up.

"Don't you?" Howard asked seriously, staring at the side of Vince's head, noting perfect curve of his cheekbones, smiling at the poutiness of his mouth as he concentrates.

"Nope" was the lie.

"Do you think I should find her? Tell her I love her too?"

"That depends on whether or not you love her."

"Yeah but, how do I know?"

"Dunno but I once heard, if you have to ask, it's not love," Vince answered, peering sideways at the older boy before returning to his drawing. Howard thought for a second.

"So," Vince said, after a while, "why are you limping?"

"Kicked a wall."

Vince suddenly burst out laughing before groaning loudly.

"What?"

"I've put a big pencil line through my picture now. That's your fault."

"How?"

"You made me laugh."

"Sorry."

"Kicked a wall?"

"I was angry."

"So, you took it out on a wall?" Vince asked incredulously. Howard ignored the smirk on the younger boys lips.

"There weren't any puppies in kicking distance."

"Awww. That's horrible, Howard."

"Sorry. I get cranky when all my toes are broken."

Vince stifled a giggle. "I bet they're not _all _broken. Here. Which foot? Let me have a look."

"What? You're a doctor now, are you?"

"Yep," Vince grinned, pulling both Howard's shoes off and inspecting the feet. "There's nothing wrong with your toes you great lummox," he smiled, as he ran his hands over them.

Howard hummed and allowed his eyes to slide shut for a second and Vince massaged his feet.

"Feeling less stressed?"

"Mmm," Howard murmured the affirmative.

"Good," chuckled Vince.

After a moment or two of blissful foot rubbing , one of Howard's eyes slid open lazily and he caught sight of Vince's picture discarded on the bed next to him. His hand shot out and he pulled the pad towards him.

"Don't look at that!" Vince cried, snatching the pad away but it was too late. Howard had already seen.

"Vince?" Howard questioned, pushing himself onto his elbows. "Was that…? I mean, what was that?"

"Nothing," he hid the drawing against his chest and moved to the other side of the room.

"It was … very good." Howard assured him getting to his feet. He reached out and touched Vince's arm soothingly. He felt the younger boy relax a little at his touch. "You captured it perfectly."

Vince nodded, his head was tilted down but his eyes were on Howard's now, obscured slightly by his fringe. "I wasn't sure if I'd got it right because … it seemed like a blur at the time."

"Yeah, me too," Howard agreed. He wasn't sure how it had happened exactly but now the two boys were millimetres from each other.

"You know Howard…"

"Hmm?"

"If you go to war, I'd wait for you too. You'd just have to ask."

Howard nodded, his hand going to cup Vince's cheek. Gently he tilted Vince's head back and leant down to press a kiss to his lips. The notepad fell to the floor and there, for all to see, was the perfect sketch of the first confusing moment under the bridge. The moment when Vince had figured out exactly what he wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

They'd known, as they'd pulled back from the kiss that things would, and could, never be the same again. They'd opened up the floodgates and here came the water. The feelings that were now unstoppable and that damn 'pit-of-the-stomach-fluttering' that Howard knew now was the one he'd always been waiting for. He looked down at Vince, his eyes still closed, his lips still parted, and he wondered why he hadn't worked this out earlier. That feeling, the one he felt now, it had always been there. Always.

Vince's eyelids fluttered open. His blue eyes fixing immediately on Howard's before looking away embarrassedly. He whispered an apology.

"Don't," Howard said sternly. Well, he'd wanted it to sound stern. It actually sounded choked up on terror.

"But…"

"Don't," Howard repeated and this time it did sound stern. "Don't say anything. Don't even think."

He didn't know if he was saying this for Vince or himself. He knew, if he thought about what he was doing he'd freak out and he didn't want to. He wanted this, he was sure of that.

"I'll leave that to you, yeah?" Vince chuckled a little.

"Mmm."

"Howard." He sounded serious and Howard didn't know if he wanted to hear it but he nodded anyway.

"What does this mean?"

Howard sighed. "I don't know," he answered, because he didn't.

"Well…" Vince insisted, "Can I do this?" he reached up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of Howard's mouth.

"Yes, you can do that." Howard said.

Vince smiled, "What about this?" he asked, pressing his lips to Howard's.

Howard just nodded.

Vince grinned again.

"And what about…"

Vince was cut off by Mrs Moon's voice flooding up the stairs.

"Boys!" It shouted, "dinner."

--

The meal was awkward and uncomfortable and every question Mrs Moon asked felt like interrogation.

"So, what have you boys been up to?"

"Nothing," Howard said too quickly and too loudly and with a face that was too red.

"You've been in that room _ages_."

"We were just talking," Howard insisted with more that the air of someone who'd been caught out.

"About…"

"Erm…" Howard faltered.

"Jenny's broken up with Howard," Vince said brightly. Howard shot him a look of hatred as his mum started to question him incessantly but at least, he supposed, she didn't care what he and Vince had been up to anymore.

Vince didn't say much for the rest of the meal. Now and again he felt Howard's foot brush against his leg and he'd smile.

--

"It's weird, isn't it?" Vince said wistfully as he sat on the chair in their shared room, fiddling with a threadbare old teddy.

"That you still have a cuddly toy? Yes, very."

"Shut up!" Vince shot back with a laugh, "Leave Naboo alone."

"What were you talking about then?" Howard asked, sitting on the bed a few foot away.

"The way that monkey's can relate to everything in the world."

"Course you were," chuckled Howard, reaching a hand out and waiting for Vince to grab it. He did and Howard pulled him onto his lap.

"This is weird too," Vince said, "but in a good way."

"Mmm," Howard nodded, pressing a kiss to Vince's collar bone. Then to his neck, jaw, mouth. Vince smiled a bit as their lips met and he felt Howard's tongue lap at his. He parted his lips gently. They kissed for what seemed like forever, parting only when their need for oxygen outweighed their need for each other. Vince slumped against Howard's shoulder and sighed contentedly.

--

"25!" cried Vince, from his position sat on the grassy bank of the stream.

"25 -what?" Howard asked, settling next to him.

"That's the number of times you've cheated at Pooh sticks so that you'd win."

"Okay then, 26."

"26 what?"

"That's the number of times I've told you I haven't cheated."

"32 - That's the number of times you've lied about cheating."

"143."

"Huh?"

"Number of times I've come this close," Howard held a tiny measurement between his thumb and forefinger, "to knocking you out."

"As if! You're like the least likely person in the world to knock anyone out. You couldn't hurt a fly … literally. In a fight between you and a fly, I'm fairly confident the fly would win. Oh, and 6,729."

"What's that?"

"The number of times you wanted to kiss me in at school today."

Howard chuckled a little and splashed some of the water over Vince. It only just reached his trousers but the hair drama that followed was insane and, in Howard's opinion, completely uncalled for.

Vince ran around the small patch of grass as though he were being attacked by thousands of flesh eating beasts. He flapped his arms about and screamed at the top of his voice for a good five minutes, before Howard caught his arm and held him still.

"You look fine," he promised and they shared the quickest, glance of a kiss, before pulling apart and flopping back to the ground.

They were quiet for a while. The only noise being the gurgling stream and Vince's post-panic panting.

"One million," Howard started lazily, "eight hundred and forty-two thousand, five hundred and thirty-six."

"What's that?" Vince asked in a similarly lazy tone.

"That's the number of times you've over-reacted since I've known you."

There was a pause, whilst Vince tired brain searched for a response; and then he said;

"Tit" before laying his head on Howard's shoulder. Everything was so perfect and calming but still neither could completely relax. Every tiny branch snapping, every overly loud gurgle from the river every rustle of leaves made them leap apart. They both wished it didn't have to be like this.

--

Shared glances. Light touches. Secret smiles. Knowing gestures. Meaningful stares. That was all there was. That was all there could ever be. Well, as long as there were people around. When they were alone, under the bridge, under the tree, locked in their room, they could be real and honest.

Howard had made no effort to make it up to Jenny but that hadn't stopped his mother making the effort on his behalf. It had come as a shock to him, when, as he sat under the old oak tree, Vince at his side, babbling on about magic, under the sea worlds as he drew in his notebook, that Jenny had walked over spouting something about accepting his apology.

Vince had immediately glared at him and Howard had had to shrug in response.

"Your mother explained everything," she said and Vince closed his note book muttering,

"Good old mum."

"Shush." Howard hissed as he listened to what Jenny had to say,

"She told me that you'd been having a bad time because of all this war stuff."

Howard nodded.

"She said that she knew you loved me too."

Vince coughed and spluttered suddenly and they both turned to see him, holding his hand over his mouth.

"Sorry," he choked.

"Oh dear. Are you okay?" Jenny asked, reaching out to tap his back. Vince flinched away be he nodded as he dragged himself to his feet, gasping something about needing water. He virtually ran to the house and Howard could do nothing but watch him go.

"I hope he's okay," Jenny said, "he sounded really ill."

"He's fine," Howard promised. "So, what exactly did my mum say?"

"Oh. She said that you were just being a typical man and were scared of commitment because of, well, partly because you're a man and partly because you were worried about being drafted."

"Right."

"And, I'm sorry."

"What?!"

"I realise now, I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling. I was being selfish. I'm sorry."

"Right."

They talked for ages. Well, Jenny talked for ages and Howard listened and by the end, apparently they were back together, though Howard wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.

--

"Well?" Vince asked as Howard walked through the front door.

"We're back together."

"Of course you are," he sighed and he carefully aimed another marble into the circle.

"Well, maybe that's a good thing," Howard suggested, "for us."

"What?! That's like saying Hitler's good for the Jews."

"Vince!"

"What?" The younger boy shrugged, flicking another marble, a bit too hard this time and losing it under the sofa.

"You can get that."

"I will," frowned Vince, "No checking out my arse," he said with a wink as he knelt next to the sofa and stretched a skinny arm, trying to locate the marble.

"I'll look if I want to, thank you sir."

"I don't think Jenny would be very happy. Aha. Got it." He held out the marble proudly.

"Well done," mocked Howard, plucking the marble from his fingers. "And I don't care about Jenny," he added, as he sat on the floor to join the game.

"So tell her that." Vince said and Howard wished it was that simple as he watched the younger boy, led out on the floor, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated on flicking his favourite blue marble.

"I'll be going to war soon, it'll all be over then."

"Does the same go for us?"

"Probably," sighed Howard. "I'll get blown up or gassed or shot and you can move on, get yourself a new…" he searched for the most appropriate word and ended up settling for, "best friend."

"What if I don't want a new '_best friend_'?"

"I'd want you to have one."

"Tough. You won't be here to decide. Anyway, you'll be fine. I bet they don't send you anywhere dangerous. You'll be in Poland killing innocent people in the name of the King."

"I'm not going to shoot anyone."

"You'll be a pretty crap solider then."

"Would you shoot someone?"

"If it was the right situation."

"And what situation would that be?"

Vince shrugged, "if someone was threatening you. Reckon I could shoot someone if they did that." He struck a pose with an imaginary gun and shot at some imaginary person stood yards from Howard. "Bang," he whispered.

"You're quiet scary sometimes," Howard shuddered. Vince just grinned,

"I know."

--

"Village ball?"

"I'm not going."

"What? Why?"

"Everyone will be in couples."

"So…"

"_You'll _be in a couple."

"So?"

"So? Are you serious? D'you know how hard that is for me?"

"Well…"

"I'll just start seeing that girl in my class that won't leave me alone, shall I? Start inviting her over, playing bloody scrabble with her all flaming weekend."

"You could have joined in."

"I can't spell."

"That's not my fault."

"You could have told her to piss off."

"Vince!"

"What?"

"We've discussed this a million and one times, I can't."

"You could. I reckon, you… _we_ should just tell everyone about us."

"What and get exiled by the whole village."

"Maybe … but who cares. We could just live in a little cottage somewhere on a farm, miles from everything."

"And wait for some thugs to kill us?"

"They wouldn't do that, would they?"

"They might."

Quiet fell over them for a second and Vince looked at the invitation in Howard's hand. It was written on brown paper, in black ink; CHRISTMAS PARTY, SATURDAY, TOWN HALL. He reached out a hand and took the invite.

"Well, I could go," he supposed, "I could wear my good shirt. Make everyone jealous because they can't have me."

"Because you're mine," Howard whispered, pulling Vince up off the chair and kissing him on the cheek. It was so quick, no one would ever have noticed but Vince wasn't going to put up with that. He grabbed Howard's wrist and dragged him upstairs. He locked the door of their bedroom and kissed him again.

"I wish we didn't have to hide away," he sighed, fiddling idly with Howard's top button.

"Me too," agreed Howard, running his hands under Vince's shirt and splaying them possessively across his lower back. Vince pressed his cheek against Howard's shoulder and sighed. This was all he could ever hope for, hidden little moments.


	10. Chapter 10

Saturday came by pretty quickly. It seemed the whole village were going to the ball and Vince was glad he'd decided to go. He got dressed up, his shirt slightly too tight, his trousers just a little to fitted. His jacket with added 'fashionable' patches. All his own design because of course Vince could sew as well as knit.

"The prefect little housewife," Howard had joked when Vince had darned all his socks for him. Vince had just scowled.

"How do I look?" Vince asked, prancing about the bedroom to the songs on the radio.

"Like a girl." Howard frowned as he messed up his tie for the third time.

"Thanks," Vince scorned; and, "do you need a hand with that?"

Howard glared at him for a second and then, much to both their surprise said, "yes, actually."

Vince nodded and went to tie it obediently, though it did become a bit difficult when Howard buried his nose in Vince's hair.

"You smell nice," he said, with an air of surprise in his voice.

"Don't sound so bloody shocked."

"Well, I thought we used the same shampoo."

"Aha. I have secret shampoo for special occasions," Vince said mysteriously, twirling off as the G.I Jive started on the radio. "So, can I have a dance now then? Seeing as I won't get one later."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Come on," he grinned. He pushed a chair against the door and grabbed Howard's hands.

They swayed together for a moment or two.

"This isn't much of a jive, is it?" laughed Vince, as Howard swung him around and tipped him back, planting a kiss on his lips.

"It's not much of a song."

"Shhh, this is the only dance I'll get tonight. Don't ruin it."

Howard chuckled and tried to spin Vince again but only succeeded in throwing him into the bed.

"Ahh, you've broken my shins," he laughed as he hobbled around still trying to dance.

"I forgot it was so close."

"What, you didn't see it?" Vince asked, with an incredulous look. "It fills the damn room."

"Vince Noir, stop swearing."

"Or what?"

"Or… this." he said, throwing Vince onto the bed and tickling him mercilessly.

"Ooo, what's going on here?" laughed Jenny, as she strolled into the room.

Howard went bright red and leapt away from Vince like he'd suddenly turned to flames. "We were just, erm …"

"…messing about," finished Vince casually, though he did wonder how the hell Jenny had got in. She must have used some force. "Don't you know it's rude to walk into someone's bedroom without knocking."

"Mm," agreed Howard, "What if we'd been getting dressed?"

"Well, I'll see it all soon enough," she smiled. Howard went bright red and Vince looked ready to throw up but Jenny didn't notice. She just continued,

"oh, who did that tie? It's awful. Can't you dress yourself? Honestly, it's a good job I'm here."

"Yeah, thank god," sulked Vince, "look at that tie. Looks like a baboon did it."

Howard shot Vince a warning glance but the younger man ignored it.

--

The village hall was packed and Vince felt slightly claustrophobic and completely uncomfortable. People were looking at him. People always looked at him. He was still a freak to them, the foreigner from London. The boy who had no right to be there, even though he lived there now. Even though he was never going back to London, not now. He had nothing to go back for.

Everyone was dancing. They were swinging their husbands, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends about the dance floor. Staking their claim on the one they loved. Vince watched Howard, swaying like the bumbling idiot he was. It didn't surprise Vince that Howard couldn't dance for toffee. It didn't surprise him that that just made him more endearing to Vince. It didn't surprise him that Jenny found it 'sweet' for a while before getting really fed-up of having her feet trodden on.

Vince took this opportunity to stir things up a bit. He jumped off his seat and walked over to the pair.

"Howard," he said, "could I possibly dance with your lovely girlfriend?"

"What?" Howard asked.

"Yes." Jenny grinned, grateful that, one, Vince was _finally _opening up to her and, two, she could give her poor feet a break from Howard's clumsy stomping boots.

Of course, Vince moved like an angelic-swan ice skating on air, so soft like … whipped cream. Howard frowned. Even he knew that metaphor was crap. His poetry had taken a downhill turn ever since he'd discovered his feelings for Vince. He couldn't draw inspiration from the blackness of his denial anymore. He was almost completely happy and that wasn't good for a dark, brooding artiste such as himself. Jenny slid down Vince's arm and he span her around. People around them started to move out of the way and Howard watched as the whole hall seized to dance, in favour of watching them glide around floor.

Howard had a weird feeling in his gut. He didn't like the way Vince was holding Jenny. He didn't like the way he was looking at her. He didn't like the way all of his attention was focused on her. He didn't like the way she was touching him. The way, he Howard, should be touching him. He didn't like anything about it and before he knew it, he was tearing the two apart and shouting,

"Enough."

"Howard," Jenny said, she was bright red, "what are you doing? We were just dancing."

"I … well, don't." He was glaring at Vince as he said it. "I don't want you dancing with Jenny again!"

"Not _jealous, _were you?"

"Right, outside."

Everyone in the hall jeered and whistled and a few shouted, "Howard's gonna beat the crap out of that weird kid," as they piled into the street. Howard grabbed the scruff of Vince's collar and pulled him really close,

"What the hell were you playing at?"

"Jealous?"

"No."

"Liar."

People were filing out of the hall. Among them, Mrs Moon was shouting something about everyone calming down and Jenny was screaming, telling Howard not to do anything stupid but he wasn't listening. No one was listening. Everyone was just watching, waiting for the first punch to be thrown.

"You ungrateful bastard," Howard shouted.

"You understand now? You understand how I feel every time I see you together? It breaks my heart."

"Keep your voice down."

"They can't hear what we're saying. They don't even care. They just wanna watch you beat the hell out of the Londoner."

"That's not true."

"It is!" Vince screamed, tearing himself from Howard's grasp. "No one hear gives a flying Frisbee about me, Howard. I miss my family. I miss my life. The only thing I've got left in the world is you and I have to share you, I'll always have to share you."

"That's not my fault. It's societies fault."

"Just leave Jenny… please," he begged.

"Fine," promised Howard.

Vince grinned, "now punch me."

Howard choked on nothing. "What?" he spluttered.

"People think we're fighting. Punch me."

"No."

"Come on Howard. I'm a South London, cockney ragamuffin. I'm hard as nails. Punch me!"

Howard let fly but his aim was rubbish and his wrists were weak. He hardly grazed the side of Vince's cheek but the younger boy flung himself to the ground anyway. He started to crawl backwards screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Get away from me! Please! Don't hurt me." Howard knew he was acting but it still hurt him, when he watched him scrambling away.

--

Mrs Moon was furious and Howard just had to let her rant at him because he couldn't possibly explain what had really happened.

"You just _had _to hit him, didn't you? Couldn't just let it go. You had to get all alpha-male and you embarrassed Jenny. You made it look like you couldn't trust her, you made her look like a common whore. But you didn't think about that, did you? You just wanted to prove your bloody point."

"Sorry," he mumbled for the umpteenth time.

"It's not me you should be apologising to, it's Jenny."

"Jenny?" Howard spluttered, "Vince was the one I punched."

"I know and I'm sure he'll understand in time that he can't dance like that with his friend's girlfriend but Jenny… well, she must be mortified."

"How?"

"Well…" his mum launched into a long speech reiterating everything that she'd already said and Howard just sighed, wondering when his life had just become a loop of his mother's ranting and worrying about where Vince had gone.

--

Howard was curled up in bed, when Vince finally returned. He felt the mattress dip and a knee dig sharply in his lower back as Vince lost his balance.

The smaller boy cursed sharply under his breath as Howard felt him try and lie down without causing too much movement.

Eventually, the rustling stopped and Howard said,

"I'm awake anyway" and received a sharp slap to the arm.

"You git," Vince hissed, "you let me creep in here all silent."

"You kneed me in the back."

"That was an accident!" Vince protested and Howard laughed as he shuffled around so he could face the younger boy.

"I know," he mumbled leaning forward and kissing Vince on the forehead. "I'm sorry about over reacting earlier. You're right… I was jealous and I don't think about how you feel. I will finish dating Jenny."

"When?"

"Tomorrow," Howard promised and Vince nodded, reaching up to kiss Howard. Howard wrapped his arms around him and realised his skin was like ice. He held him closer and wished life could be easier.

By the next evening, Howard was only Vince's and only ever would be.


	11. Chapter 11

"Happy Birthday to you," his mum howled the last line of the song like a strangled cat and Vince burst out laughing.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday Howard," he agreed when he'd finally stopped laughing enough to gasp out some breath.

"Thanks," Howard grinned. His mum had darned some socks for him and wrapped them up in brown paper. Vince had made a jumper which was slightly too small for him, though Vince insisted it was the perfect fit. Some of the village had offered presents as well.

The baker had made a small cake and the woman at the shop had offered a small piece of chocolate and the landlord of the pub found a small bottle of whiskey for him. It hadn't been a bad birthday considering.

"Right," Mrs Moon said, clapping her hands together brightly. "I'll pour some drinks and cut the cake."

The door shut and Vince grinned at Howard.

"Enjoying you're birthday old man?"

"I'm not that old."

"You're officially an adult now. Hey, does that make you officially a paedophile if I do this?" he grinned, running over and planting a kiss on Howard's lips.

"Get off me," he groaned, shoving him away hard. Vince didn't mind. He knew that later, behind closed doors, Howard would be apologetic and loving; he'd just have to wait. So, for now, Vince contented himself with slumping at Howard's feet and leaning against his leg.

Mrs Moon returned a second later with three slices of cake and a thimble of whiskey for herself and her son. Vince had to watch on as Howard supped the brown liquid. Not that he felt he'd missed out. He'd tasted whiskey before. It had burnt his throat and stomach and made his insides feel like they were on fire. He'd run around screaming and yelling, demanding water immediately. Howard hardly flinched.

"Happy Birthday Howard," Vince grinned, through a mouthful of cake.

And it had been a happy birthday, all things considered. It had certainly got better when his mother had stopped moaning about how much of a shame it was that Jenny wasn't there.

"It didn't work out mum," Howard would repeat over and over again but his mother wasn't really listening. She didn't really care what she had to say on the matter but then again, he didn't care what she had to say about it either.

His birthday had improved even more later that evening when he and Vince had strolled out to the old oak tree, hand in hand… well, almost. They were so close their hands kept brushing together but no one would know. They didn't say much that evening. Well, that's not strictly true. Vince said a lot but none of it meant anything, not really. It was just mad theories on how dogs were trying to take over the world by sending messages with their tails and why squirrels were evil and the best way to catch a frog with nothing but a piece of string and a yoghurt pot. Howard just let the words wash over him, catching enough of them now and again to know he was still talking nonsensical poetry. He liked to let them drone out reality, the impending reality that would drop onto his doormat in the next few days, the reality that would change his life.

--

The brown envelope thudded onto the floorboards just like any other letter. It's writing wasn't particularly interesting. The stamp wasn't exotic. It was, after all, just a letter. Howard picked it up and opened it. He didn't need to read much to recognise the official print. 'Howard Moon'; '…chosen to represent your country…'; '… honour and privilege…'; '…proud to serve your country…'.

--

"Hey," Vince said softly as he opened the door to their shared bedroom. "You're mum said you'd be here. Can I come in?"

Howard made a little noise that could have meant either response so Vince, ever the optimist, walked over to him. Howard was led out on the bed. The letter was still held limply between his fingers and he was staring ahead at the ceiling. He seemed somehow lost.

"You okay?" Vince asked. It was a stupid question really but he had to start somewhere. Howard didn't respond. "Because," Vince continued, "I know you're terrified of going to war. You don't have to be brave and pretend you can't wait. Not in front of me. This is when you get to be yourself, yeah?"

Again, Howard didn't react.

"Howard?"

The older boy still said nothing. He felt the bed dip a little as Vince sat down but he still didn't talk. What was he supposed to say? He liked to think he was strong and indestructible. His mum liked to think he was too and so he'd keep up the façade but Vince was always pulling it down and Howard hated it. He hated the way Vince would peel away his tough outer-tortoise shell and prod at the fleshy belly beneath. Howard liked to hide behind his own lies.

"Howard?" Vince tried again. He was ignored. Vince's head had found its was to Howard's chest and his nose was pressed against the underside of the older boy's chin. Howard knew he must look funny from that angle; all nose and chin. Vince didn't seem to mind. He just sighed contentedly.

"You know," he whispered eventually, "I think I might love you Howard."

The words scolded Howard a little. He didn't want to hear them. Not now. Not on top of going to war. Now he felt he didn't just _want _to survive this, he _needed _to, for Vince. He couldn't put Vince through what he'd gone through when his dad had died and Vince had already lost too many people.

"Howard?" Vince whispered. His voice was whiney and high-pitched, just like it always was when he wanted attention.

"How-aaaaaaard," he whined, "stop ignoring me."

Howard didn't say anything. He had nothing to say, he wrapped his arm around Vince and held him close before closing his eyes. There was nothing to be said.

--

Vince was grumpy the next morning. Unsurprisingly. Howard did make half an effort to talk to him but he wasn't having it. Vince left the house claiming he was going to school but Howard had watched him walk in the wrong direction to the bridge. Always to the bridge. Howard sighed. He wished life were easier.

All he wanted to do was stand on the rooftops and scream about how he was a massive gay about how much he loved Vince but that wasn't practical. He could be arrested or killed or sent to certain camps to man-him-up. He'd heard about them in the stories Billy used to tell.

He went to find Vince later that afternoon. He took the remainder of his birthday cake as a piece offering.

"You know, I don't think we should get too attached in case…"

"Shut up," Vince warned through a mouthful of cake. "I don't want to hear anything about the damned war."

"Right." Howard agreed, kicking at a stone with his foot.

"The war isn't there. It hasn't taken everything I knew and everyone I _loved,_" he almost shouted the last word to get his point across, "away from me and you're not scared of leaving me and your mum to fend for ourselves."

"Right," Howard nodded. He wished he could slip so easily into this fake world that Vince was creating.

"Now," Vince said, his fingers creeping to find Howard's wrapping them up together, "I love you."

Howard looked up at the younger boy. His eyes were a little shiny, like he was trying not to cry and his face was strained from the effort of not saying something more."What's wrong?" Howard asked.

"Can you please just say it back?" Vince begged. His steady, calm outer-shell cracking. "Please."

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because I can't guarantee I'll come back."

"I'm not asking you to tell me you'll come home again. I'm just asking you to tell me you love me."

"But it'll hurt twice as much."

"I don't care. I love you." Vince tried again.

"Vince … I can't," Howard choked. His words drowning in sympathy.

"Don't." Vince said as he shifted away from Howard. He didn't want to talk to him anymore. The conversation wasn't brought up again. It was too painful for both of them so, instead, they concentrated on the week they had together rather than the potential lifetime they had apart.

They walked around the village like two best mates.

"Close as brothers them two," people would say. They'd never know the truth about just how close they were. No one would. That was saved for quiet moments under the oak tree, times at the brig and when they were locked in their bedroom.

The week flew by, just like they both knew it would and the night before Howard was due to leave, they were both completely unable to sleep. They just led in the darkness not saying a word. They clung on to each other as thought their lives were ending and that's how it felt. Vince could feel Howard's heart beating in his chest, playing a tune against his ear drum. Howard could feel Vince's eyelashes blinking against his chest. He could hear him sniffing every now and again. He knew Vince was trying not to cry but Howard couldn't stop the silent tears that were rolling down his face. He wanted to say something meaningful. He wanted to make it better but he knew he couldn't. Vince's grip on his body was so hard, Howard thought his delicate skin would bruise but he didn't care. If anything he wanted to drag him closer but it was impossible. The night seemed to last forever. But, as the birds sang and the sun peeked through the curtains, forever came to an end.

They got up like it was any other day. They ate porridge, well, they tried to, both of them left most of it. They got dressed. Vince into his slightly too fitted shirt and his trousers that were just a little clinging to his bottom. Howard put on his uniform. Mrs Moon sobbed when she saw him. She took a few photo's. Image after image of Howard stood in front of the house next to the front door and one of Howard and Vince both forcing smiles at the camera. They were both proud after all.

* * *

The train whistled loudly and thick black smoke filled the air and filled their lungs. This was it. Howard was leaving. The train chugged melodically away and Vince stood next to Mrs Moon waving as it went. He couldn't cry. He was a man after all and he was only losing a friend. He couldn't be seen to weep and he had to console Mrs Moon.

--

They'd hugged on that platform, just like all the other best friends, but what was special was the hot, breathy whisper in Vince's ear;

"Wait for me. I love you."

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**So there you have it ... s'all over!! =O  
Also ... three updates in one night!! C'mon me! Lol. That's rapid updating for SHO! Making up for the neglect i've shown you all. I can only apologise for that!!**

THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH for everyone who's reviewed this! AND THANK YOU EQUALLY FOR READING!! I love you all as much as a girl can love someone she's met on ! lol.

**Thanks again!!  
Hayley...xx**


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